


Come What May

by theonehewaitsfor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Apprenticeship, Charms, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Illnesses, Loss, Love, Lust, Marriage, Marriage Law Challenge, Plot Twists, Post Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War, Potions, SSHG - Freeform, Sadness, Sex, Suspense, relationships, snamione, snanger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 61,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonehewaitsfor/pseuds/theonehewaitsfor
Summary: Several years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape meet accidentally in a romantic entanglement. After an interesting turn of events, Hermione is shocked when she finds out that Severus is her Potions Master as she sets out to complete her final year of an apprenticeship. She hopes that the situation won't get anymore complicated. But to her dismay, their relationship grows even more complex when Severus reveals that the Ministry of Magic has passed a Marriage Law and the pair is matched.Read along for a heart-wrenching, romantic, angst-filled fiction. Get your tissue box close by; you'll want it for this novel!





	1. One

Pouring rain clouded her vision, the young woman raising her hand up to her forehead as a makeshift visor. Her black bob hung wetly to her icy cheeks, and she flipped it out her face. The wig was worn in addition to heavy makeup. That night, she was going to be someone else. Grabbing ahold of the collar of her trench coat, Hermione Granger turned it upwards to warm her neck. The late London night was turning to be more of a disaster than she realized. She had gone out to one of the up and coming London nightclubs, but unfortunately had to leave early due to overcrowding. Which, in turn, left a slightly drunk Hermione standing on the curb in the pouring rain, hailing a cab down. All she had wanted was one last night of freedom before going back to Hogwarts. She had spent the last four years training with several Potions masters, preparing her to begin an apprenticeship, and eventual professorship. 

It was far too crowded to apparate back to her house, let alone to find a site to floo back. Stepping out into the street slightly, Hermione leaned down the line of parked cars, looking through the thick rain for a cab. One bright headlight blinded her momentarily as the object rounded a bus, hurtling at her. Hermione jumped out of the way just as the motorcycle came to a screeching halt. She let out a shrill scream, clutching at her chest. Muddy water covered her black trousers and thigh-high suede boots. The pair she had just bought the day before for £100, a going away present to herself. Groaning, she shook her head, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat.

“What the fuck were you doing in the middle of the road?” The person asked, their voice muffled by the helmet, but clearly annoyed. 

“Trying to flag a cab!” She shouted in response. 

“Well, watch where you’re going!” 

“Watch where you’re going! You could have run me flat!” Hermione shouted. “You also ruined my boots.” 

“Sorry about that.” The person apologized, switching off their bike. Studying the motorcyclist, she enjoyed what she was looking at. Hermione had discerned that it was a male. A muscular man, by the look of the dark denim pants he wore, which were sticking to his legs with the rain. He wore a black leather jacket, black gloves and a pair of heavy black leather boots. It had been months since she’d taken a man home, let alone a stranger. 

So what if she couldn’t see his face? His body was fantastic and wet from the rain. All it would take is an invitation inside, a warm bit of liquor, and she would have him in bed.

“Why don’t you give me a lift home to make it up to me?” She asked, smirking. 

“How far away?” 

“A couple kilometers north, then onto Easterling, thanks.” 

“Get on, then.” 

Hermione climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his waist. He kicked the motorcycle on and they sped off. As she held onto him, speeding through the busy, chaotic streets of London, Hermione caught a familiar scent. The man she clutched smelled terribly familiar, but she could not name what she picked up. Turning right, they found themselves down a row of townhomes in which Hermione then tugged on the hem of his sleeve. 

“Number 17!” They rolled down the street, rumbling on the motorcycle. As they arrived at the sidewalk before her house, Hermione felt herself grow anxious. What a fun game she was playing--wearing a wig that night to alter her identity. Now, she was going to sleep with a complete and utter stranger. “Come in for a quick drink to warm you up. I’ll get my fire going!” 

There was a brief moment of hesitation on the man’s part, but then he obliged. “Alright, then.” 

Climbing off from behind the man, she hurried up the front steps of her house, her wig and clothes still sopping wet.

As Hermione unlocked her front door, opening it, she turned. The man removed his helmet, flipping shoulder-length black hair out across his leather jacket. 

Well, fuck.


	2. Two

Severus Snape stood at the bottom of the concrete staircase, hand on the iron railing. 

“Well, aren't you going to let me in?” He questioned, his voice as thick as she remembered it. 

“Of course!” Stepping inside, she removed her jacket, hanging on the coat rack in the entryway. Shaking her head, she felt her eyes grow wide, swimming around with alcohol. Merlin’s beard! She had just invited a former professor in on the basis of sleeping with him. Moving aside, Hermione made room for the wizard to place his helmet on the floor and slip off the leather jacket. She took it and hung it next to her own coat, 

Inhaling quickly, the witch bit her lip. Severus Snape had most certainly returned from the dead. His black button-down shirt clung to his pale chest, his broad shoulders and arms exposed. He was smoldering! Or was this the alcohol talking? It had to be. There was no way she was looking at her former professor with oogly eyes. Bloody hell! 

“I’m Severus, by the way.” 

What? Oh no. He didn’t recognize her. Of course he didn’t! She was wearing a black wig, and it’d been several years since he’d last seen her. How would she respond? 

“I know who you are.” Reaching out her hand, she felt his grasp hers. His grip was stronger than she remembered. 

“Have we met before?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. He adjust the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it down one notch. A bit of black and grey chest hair peeked out. That was it. She was going to erupt! 

“Perhaps. Gryffindor.” This would be a test. A risky one, yes. But she knew this would be a deciding factor in how the rest of the conversation went. 

“Slytherin. You’re much younger than me, so we could not have been classmates.” He thought, stepping to the left into her living room. Everything was boxed up, prepared for her move to Hogwarts the day after next.

“Sorry for the mess. I’m moving.” Hermione apologized, adjusting her wig so that it was a bit straighter. 

“Not far?” 

“No.” Another lie. 

Why couldn’t she just be honest? Why not reveal to him who she was? Hermione wanted to bang her head against the wall, but instead continued through the living room, charming her fire on. As she entered the kitchen, she walked over to her bar cart, holding up a bottle of her best firewhiskey. 

“Yes.” He nodded, slipping his strong hands into the pockets of his denim pants. He hovered in front of the fire, staring into the flames. Thank Merlin there were no pictures of her up, or else she’d be found out. 

“Oh, um… I don’t have any glasses. They’re buried away in some box. Do you mind sharing the bottle?” Flushed, Hermione glanced down at the mud-splattered knee-high boots she wore with a pair of dark-wash denim trousers. The white sweater hung off one shoulder, revealing her black bra strap. She pulled it back up, immediately feeling his eyes drawn to the exposed skin. 

“All I care about is something to warm me up,” he gestured with the curl of an index finger, raising one eyebrow. Letting out a deep breath, Hermione walked back over into the living room and sat on the covered leather sofa, opening the bottle with the turn of her wrist. Taking a long drink, she opened her eyes to hand it over to Snape, sitting beside her on the couch. 

“Who was your favorite professor?” 

“McGonagall, I think.” This was not a lie. Hermione had always been fond of the strong female leader in the school. 

“Of course, a Gryffindor’s favorite.” Snape handed the bottle back to her after he took a long drink.

“Thank you for taking me home, by the way.” Her head felt fuzzy, and her arms tingly. The firewhiskey was doing its job. The wizard was growing more and more attractive by the minute. His hair had grown slightly longer, with waves that fell away from his face. His eyebrows were still thick and black, resting low over his narrowed eyes. His lips were still downturned and pursed. But his eyes had grown warmer, and there was something different about him in general. Severus Snape seemed lighter and… happier? 

“I don’t think you should thank me as I was… ordered… to take you here.” Snape narrowed his eyes at the witch, handing the bottle to her.

“I didn’t force you to take me home!” Hermione argued, holding the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey at her chest. She settled down when she realized he was joking with her. Joking! “I didn’t order you either. Just merely suggested.”

“And you didn’t order me to do this, either…” Snape grabbed the back of her head, pulling her to him. He kissed her hard on the mouth, and she melted in his embrace. Opening her mouth slightly, she let his tongue, warm and wet, slip into her mouth. She felt his hands run down her neck, her shoulders, pulling the sweater off of her. Then, Hermione opened her eyes. 

Severus Snape’s eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly. She felt her head, realizing the black wig had fallen to the floor, taking the wig cap with it. Her mass of golden curls surrounded her face. 

“Granger?” He twisted his face in confusion, reaching out to drag his thumb across her face. He withdrew his wand and removed the makeup covering her skin. 

Ashamed, Hermione felt heat rise in her face and she stood, moving to face away from Severus Snape. 

“I didn’t mean for it to be like… like this…” She whispered, nausea rolling over her.  
“Were you afraid to reveal yourself?” 

“I was afraid of what you might have said or done if you knew who I really was.” Hermione turned slightly, watching Snape stand to get her sweater. 

“Always so high and mighty, the brightest witch of her age. I can see you haven’t changed. Still thinking she’s better than everyone--making decisions for everyone.” He threw the white fabric at the witch, it hitting her hard in the chest. Snape stormed through the living room, exiting to the entryway, pulling on the leather jacket.

“That’s not fair.” She argued, pulling the sweater back on. Hermione turned to face him as he tucked the helmet underneath his arm “You don’t get to say those things just because you’re surprised it’s me.” 

“The only thing I’m surprised about is what a slut you’ve become.” Severus Snape pulled the door behind him, slamming it hard. Hermione stood before the fire, listening to the roar of his motorcycle fade.


	3. Three

Hermione stood at the front of the potions classroom in the dungeons of Hogwarts. First level students faced her, and she smiled uncomfortably, clearing her throat. She scratched at the base of her neck, feeling her thick curls. Any moment, the new potions professor would walk through the door, and she would meet her master. 

“I… am Severus Snape… I am your potions professor, and this… is-” Severus Snape had made his way from the small potions store room at the front of the classroom. He was dressed in the same robes Hermione had known him to wear. Trousers with a button at the ankle, black boots, and the jacket with long sleeves and buttons from the groin to the neck. He wore his long cape, which sounded like a flag in the wind as he flew up towards the empty space beside her. She let out a small gasp as he stopped at the desk, flipping his head to see her. “Hermione Granger. My potions apprentice. You will have us both to… Respect.” 

Hermione was wearing the apprentice uniform, a pair of black pumps, black tights, a knee-length pleated skirt, white button-down top, and a black sweater and black tie. She felt as if she were in school again, with the skirt and top. However, with the ability to wear the high heels, she felt more of an adult. Except her feet were killing her as she stood. Silently, she reminded herself to put a comforting charm on the bloody things. 

“Miss Granger, you may take a seat for this lecture. We will… discuss after class.” Curtly, Professor Snape flipped himself around and began to lecture about common potions and their ingredients, in which the students began to furiously take notes. Hermione found herself looking out the window, in which the September day was overcast and rainy. Big drops pattered against the window, and she thought back to the night she and Severus had met in the rain. 

“Granger!” His face appeared before hers and she sat up straight in his presence. Hermione shook slightly at the startle, glancing around the classroom. “They’re all gone. You’ve had your girlish head in the clouds for the entire lecture.” 

“Sorry,” She whispered sheepishly, standing. Professor Snape rolled his eyes and flipped around, his cape whipping behind him. He made his way down the center of the aisle, opening the large arched door. Now was time to get back at him for the other night. She would not allow herself to be the weaker member of this arrangement. Hermione Granger had allowed men to run her life for the last 23 years. She would not continue down this path.

Hermione followed him quickly, heels clacking. Snape stopped in the small square room, moving to sit down behind the massive desk at the center. 

“Plan on finding a less annoying pair of shoes.” 

“But I like these,” She replied, furrowing her brow. Snape let out a heavy sigh, blinking up at her. Hermione bit her lower lip to keep herself from talking back and looked up at the room. All around them were bookshelves, covering the walls. Behind Snape’s desk was a spiral staircase which led to a second level, also filled with books. One wall to the left was a glass cabinet, in which a mass of vials and bottles were resting. 

“I did not realize you were my apprentice… If I had known, it might have altered my decision to return.”

“Um… Well… I didn’t know you were going to be my potions master. Trust me... After the other night, I would not have accepted this position. At all.” Hermione crossed her arms tightly at her chest, sitting down heavily in a leather club chair opposite the desk. Snape leaned forward on his elbows. 

“I did not invite you to sit.” He stared at her intensely, Hermione scooting backwards to settle into the chair.

“My annoying shoes were hurting my feet.” She threw one leg over the other, her eyes glimmering. 

“If you insist on being difficult, I’ll have you leave.” 

“No you won’t. You want me here.” 

“I could not possibly want you anywhere… near… me.” Shaking his head, the wizard drew his index finger across the skin between his nose and lips. He stiffened in the chair slightly, inhaling heavily.

“So… just because you found out the woman beneath the wig was me, you’ve changed the way you feel? I happen to be the exact same woman with our with the wig.” Hermione smirked once more, this time, leaning forward to rest her elbows on Snape’s desk.

“Perhaps… If I had been given all the information at the start, my actions may have been different.” 

Hermione let out a small sigh. Really? 

“Are you afraid of what would have happened if you knew it was me?” Smiling cheekily, Hermione 

“There should be nothing that presents fear in me, Granger. You should be the one who’s afraid… You’re now my apprentice. I could have you ruined in less time than it takes me to brew veritaserum.” 

Was he serious? Hermione felt the smile wipe off her face. 

“Sir,” Hermione stood, smoothing down her skirt. Sweet-talking the professor obviously did not work. Now, she would give him the silent treatment. Turning on her heel, she made her way out of the office. 

“Granger!” He called out after her. She continued, heels clicking on the stone floor. In front of her, the door to the classroom slammed shut. That git. 

Flipping around, Hermione scowled at the wizard standing behind his desk. He had his hands, palm flat against the desk, eyes narrowed angrily at her. 

“Sir?” 

“Get back here at once. We have a conversation to finish.” 

“Oh, I don’t believe we do. You see, a slut like me, well, we have things to do. People to see. Another day, we will finish our conversation.” Hermione turned back around, withdrawing her wand. “Alohomora.”


	4. Four

That night, Hermione drew a bath in the private bathroom attached to her apprentice chambers. She needed to reflect on everything that had happened. What a horrendous first day back at Hogwarts. Was she wrong in challenging the professor like that? After all, he technically was her superior now. Hermione suddenly felt a massive pang of guilt rush to her chest. Was she going to lose her apprenticeship for disrespecting him?

However, he did call her a slut! He deserved to have the hatred and insolence thrown at him, she thought. No. No. She was wrong. Horrible and mean, she thought. Hermione slipped down deeper into the steaming water, sinking and sinking...

Ronald would have never treated her like that. Perhaps he would have been angry about being deceived, but he would not have said those things. But Ron was dead, one of the many victims of the battle. Hermione grabbed at her chest, shooting pains running through her, and erupted from the water. The room seemed to be growing smaller with each struggling breath.

Scenes from the war filled her head. There had been so much blood. Nothing to stop it. No way to help him. Severus. Left to die in the Shrieking Shack... Then, Ronald. Bellatrix had used the Unforgivable Curse to kill him just before Molly struck her down. If she hadn’t been focused on saving Snape, Ron wouldn’t have been dead… 

Ron could be there, behind her in the bathtub, talking her through the next few days. Kissing her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her. His hands on her bare breasts...

Hermione clawed at the edge of the tub, struggling to get out. She felt as if she might suffocate if she couldn’t get out. Pulling a pair of silk pajama pants and matching camisole, Hermione then wrapped a black velvet cape over top. Slipping the hood over her hair, she made her way through the dark castle, careful with every corner. 

She was out after curfew, but could think of nothing else but to get to the Astronomy Tower. There, she could get a few minutes in the cool night air. Maybe she would feel like she could breathe. A sickening feeling had settled in her stomach, her palms damp. Unfortunately, even the apprentices had a set curfew for their safety. Finally, she entered the open space, hurrying down the stairs. 

Standing at the edge, Hermione looked over the courtyard below. Would it hurt if she flung herself off? How long would it take for her to hit the ground, she wondered. 

“Reveal yourself so I can deduct house points.” 

Bloody hell. Seriously? 

“Are you following me, or are we just this unlucky?” Hermione questioned, shifting as she looked over her shoulder towards Snape. He shifted himself slightly, tilting his head when he caught sight of her.

“It’s late. You should be in your chambers.” 

“I wish I was there… In my bed, asleep. But not tonight… I can’t.” She shook her head, turning it back towards the big, shining moon. “If you’re going to yell at me, could it wait until tomorrow morning? I’m not particularly strong enough to listen to it now.” 

“You act as if I’ve no compassion.” 

“Well, you don’t, right? Or is that just an act you put on?” The words tasted bitter as she spit them out, and Hermione immediately looked to her right. “I’m sorry… Sometimes those words spill out before I realize how terrible they are.” 

He held a strange look on his face as his eyes gazed into hers. She studied his face once more--he had hardly aged at all. Hermione felt nearly 10 years older when she returned to the castle. 

“What made you come back?” She questioned, white knuckles grasping ahold of the railing.

“Hogwarts is my home… The familiarity is comforting…” Snape replied, leaning forward against the iron barrier, facing out over the courtyard. A cool breeze blew in, knocking Hermione’s cape off her head, her curls fluttering in the wind. His eyes followed them and then landed on her face once more. 

“The Prophet said you were enjoying a life of quiet solitude? Why not continue? No one to bother you… I could never get away from the press. I knew that if I was back at Hogwarts, they couldn’t touch me.” 

“Do you believe everything you read in the Prophet?” 

“Of course not. But I assumed you were enjoying time away from the castle. Obviously, you enjoyed spending it on a motorcycle.” 

“Mmm. Yes, I did enjoy my freedom, for awhile.” His eyes wandered down her neck, to her breasts, which were apparent in the silk camisole. Hermione flushed and inconspicuously pulled the cape over her chest. 

“Well. I think I’ll be off to bed.” As the witch began to turn away, she felt his hand upon hers. 

“Tomorrow, we can brew some Dreamless Sleep for you.” Severus immediately retracted his hand, shoving it back down at his side. 

“Thanks. Oh, and, um, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier… You didn’t deserve that. I… I have some things to work on.” Hermione smiled tightly, walking back up the stairs towards the main castle.


	5. Five

Hermione woke with vigor the next morning and dressed before the sun had even risen. Sitting at the edge of her bed, Crookshanks made its way over to her, rubbing against the black nylons. 

“You’ll get fur all over me!” Hermione exclaimed, picking up the cat to put him behind her on the bed. Sulking, he rolled up in a ball and glared at her. “Oh stop.” Rolling her eyes, the witch glanced back over to the two pairs of shoes in front of her. 

Hermione Granger clacked her way through the castle, arriving just in time for potions with the third years. She entered the room, making her way through to Snape’s office at the back of the room. 

“Good morning, sir.” 

“I told you to get rid of those shoes.” He flipped down his copy of the Daily Prophet, narrowing his eyes at her. Hermione blushed violently. 

“If they bother you that much, then fine.” She changed her shoes with the flick of her wand, shrinking down three inches. “However, I really did like them.” 

Snape blinked up at her, dark eyes unfeeling. He put down the paper on his desk, resting his elbows on top. Tucking his folded hands beneath his chin, Snape looked up at Hermione, and then over towards one of the bookshelves. 

“Dreamless Sleep, then,” Snape started in drawn-out breath. “You’re competent in brewing it?” 

Hermione tilted her head, leaning forward towards the professor slightly. 

“I became competent in first year.” Shifting slightly, Hermione glanced about the room, her eyes falling on a leather jacket hanging on one hook of the coat rack in the corner. She licked her lips quickly, inhaling. The leather jacket. The one she wanted to take off of him… 

“Very well then. Go.” 

So, she did. Hermione Granger made her way out of the office, feeling self-conscious as she turned her back on the professor. Was he watching her? Yes. Hermione could feel his eyes on her. 

As she stood above the cauldron, Hermione thought back to the night in the rain. The way his arms outstretched and held onto the handlebars of the motorcycle. Snape’s thighs squeezing the body to keep himself steady. She grinned brightly when she closed her eyes and pictured herself with her arms around him, flying through the streets of London. Oh, how could it have been him? 

Stirring, Hermione blinked back to reality. Anxiety hit her like a ton of bricks, realizing that she might have ruined her potion--no! It was perfect. A shimmering purple color--spot on. Grinning, the witch carefully funneled it into several vials, labeling them with the wave of her hand. She had enough to sleep peacefully for a week. Or… sleep eternally if she wanted.

“You’ve taken long enough, Granger.” Hermione jumped, but did not turn around. Rolling her eyes heavily, she began to clean up her area. 

“Must you insist on startling me?” That git. Hermione saw out of the corner of her eye a long arm clad in black with the tip of a white sleeve peeking out. Snape collected all the vials except for one. As he retracted, she felt a slight brush of something firm against her ass. 

Wait--what? Hermione looked over her shoulder to watch Snape walk back to his office, his cape and hair flowing behind him. 

Was that his finger? His… Thing? She bit her lip and then shook her head, glancing up towards the window. No way! He accidentally brushed his hand against her as he took the vials away. Nothing more. Her mind began to wander into places that made her blush; Hermione drew herself back in.

Hermione mustered the courage to go back into his office for her next assignment, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt. As she walked through the rows of desks, she stepped up onto the landing before his office and made her way to stand in front of the desk. It was ornately carved with ivy wrapped around the edges. Small clear and emerald jewels were affixed in various places on the carvings. Hermione studied it for a few more moments Snape was focused intently on a roll of parchment laid out on the desk, scrawling with his quill across the surface. 

“Sir,” Hermione began. She awaited him to look at her, but he did not. Hermione grew impatient.

“Get on with it, Granger.” 

Clearing her throat, she asked him quickly: “What is next on our agenda today?” 

“Our agenda?” The professor sat up and then proceeded to lean back in his chair, putting one leg on top of the other knee. “You will be grading. I have business to attend outside the castle.” 

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, watching as Snape floated over a large stack of parchment from the corner of the room. He placed it on his desk and patted it adoringly. 

“Grading? But it’s only the second day of classes!” Hermione exclaimed, hands balling into fists. 

“Summer holiday assignment, girl. I will be back this evening. I expect them to be completed by the time I return. You will find the requirements here.” He held out his hand palm up and Hermione watched as he rushed out the door of the office, slamming it shut behind him. 

She stood uncomfortably in front of the desk, hands clasped at her waits. Glancing around, Hermione decided to sit at the professor’s desk to begin sorting through the parchment. To her left, a piece of parchment began to rise up from the desk; it was charmed with the assignment’s requirements. Hermione reached over the wide surface and took the professor’s quill from a glass jar and dipped it in the small container of ink sitting next to it. The ink transformed from black to a vibrant, blood red.

The quill scratched across the first piece of parchment as Hermione crossed out a long line, leaving a comment that the student not captured the main requirements of the essay, resulting in a poor score. The next student went on a long rant about the ethical standards that needed to be implemented in the use of unicorn blood. Hermione continued to grade for what seemed like hours. When she finally finished the stack, the floating parchment slipped down back on the desk and Hermione let her head fall onto her arms that were folded on the desk. 

His hand was at her neck, dragging an index finger down her spine. She inhaled, sitting up straight. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him lift his finger to his lips, shushing her. Hermione complied, watching Snape as he reached back for her, pulling her up from her chair. He spun her around, pushing her so that her ass was against the ledge of the desk. His mouth hung open slightly, leaning forward to unbutton her blouse. Hermione felt her chest begin to rise, a hard breath filling it. The black lace bra she wore beneath was revealed and Snape’s hands were at her breasts, cupping them firmly. She was pressed back hard against the desk, Hermione now feeling the professor’s hard bulge between her legs. Spreading them slightly, she lifted herself on the desk. Moaning at the sensation of his hands now running over her exposed torso, Hermione waited with anticipation as Snape moved his head forward, closing in on her… 

“Granger!” 

Hermione sat up, at once, knocking the neatly arranged stack of parchment to fly across the room. Professor Snape stood in the doorway of his office, leaning against the frame. His necktie was hanging down, and the first three buttons were undone. 

“I hope there’s no stains from your drool.” Hermione blushed violently, reaching up to wipe her lips with the back of her hand. Luckily, it was dry, but her cheeks remained flushed. 

“Sorry,” she stood, gathering the papers, kneeling up to put them back on top of the desk.

“You seemed to be sleeping soundly… Must have been the first time in awhile,” he stated. Hermione glanced across the room at him, pulling up on the edge of the desk to stand. Snape held a highball glass half-full of what Hermione assumed was whiskey of some kind. 

Still sleepy, Hermione nodded her head in response, feeling for the vial of Dreamless Sleep in her pocket. With reassurance, she began to make her way out of the room. Snape straightened, letting her pass. 

“How long had you been standing there?” Hermione had stopped halfway through the row of desks to turn back and look at Snape. 

“Long enough.” His face remained emotionless. 

“Goodnight, professor.” 

“Granger.” He tilted his head slightly, walking into the office. 

 

Hermione slipped under the fluffy duvet on her four-poster bed. Crookshanks was sprawled out on his side to her right, his whiskers twitching. No doubt the result of dreaming of chasing all the school mice. The witch leaned over to her bedside table, picking up the vial of purple potion. Taking a small sip, she estimated that it would be the perfect amount to help her fall asleep. When she awoke, sunlight was streaming in through the windows on either side of the bed. Anxiety raced through Hermione, concerned about the time. 

She sat up straight, pushing the thick brown curls from her face. The clock hanging on the wall to her right read seven-thirty. Hermione had plenty of time to get ready and dress herself before breakfast. Only one more day and she would have unlimited amounts of time to read and study more for her apprenticeship. Saturday could not come soon enough--she might even go down to Hogsmeade and purchase new quills! She gleamed as she buttoned her white shirt, leaving one button undone at the neck. Hermione pulled half of her hair up, leaving the bottom layer sprawled across her shoulders. 

Grinning from ear to ear, Hermione say goodbye to Crookshanks, tucked her wand into a concealed pocket in her skirt, and set off for the Great Hall. As she made her way in, she felt the large room grow quieter. The students seemed to look up at her. Hermione sat a small table to the side of Gryffindor’s, not far from the professor’s table. 

Hermione ate a small serving of eggs and porridge, and reached across the table to pick up a sausage with her fork when she heard someone call her name. Turning to her left, she saw Professor Snape leaning through the door nearest the head table. He called for her once more, nodding his head to exit. She stood hesitantly, brushing her skirt down as she moved from the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several students watching her intensely. 

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked at once, Snape grabbing ahold of the back of her arm. He pushed her into an alcove off the side hallway, the pair standing in close proximity before a window. 

“Have you spoken to anyone--said anything this morning?” He released his grip on her, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Hermione shook her head, eyebrows crinkled with confusion. 

“No. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to today.” 

Snape leaned his head out, looking in both directions of the hallway. 

“It needs to stay this way. We must go speak to the Headmistress at once. There’s been a mistake.” 

“What?” Hermione questioned, watching as the professor whipped out of the alcove, hurrying down the hallway. She ran after him, walking quickly by his side as to not get in the way of his flowing robes. 

“Have you heard nothing? Not read the Daily Prophet?” He stopped dead in his tracks, just a few feet before the entrance to the headmistress’ office. 

“No!” She shouted, growing concerned. Was Harry alright? Had something happened? Ginny? Her parents? 

“The Ministry’s passed a Marriage Law. And we’ve been matched.”


	6. Six

“I’ve been expecting you both. I can see by the looks on your faces that it is not cheerful news to you.” 

“Cheerful!?” Hermione squealed. “First of all, a marriage law? What is the Ministry thinking? Forcing witches and wizards together? And second--I’m sorry Professor-- but Snape?” 

She felt her hands shaking, palms moist with sweat. Her breathing was ragged, a combination of running after Snape and the anxiety from receiving the news. 

“And why the hell did the Prophet publish it before I was notified?” Hermione raised her voice once more, but fell quiet as she saw Professor McGonagall raise her eyebrows at her. 

“Surprisingly, I am in agreeance with Miss Granger.” Snape huffed, crossing his arms. 

“The wizarding population has been low… It has been for years. But with the recent war, and the heightened fear sent through the people, the ministry decided it would be best. Raise spirits, bring about togetherness.” McGonagall began, raising a hand towards Hermione as she opened her mouth in objection. 

Hermione felt as if she couldn’t breathe. Married… To Severus Snape? No! Her life would be ruined. Regardless of her previous and possibly continuing desire for him, she could not picture herself spending the rest of her life by his side. It was supposed to be Ronald. 

“The list of matches were somehow given to the Prophet… A terrible mishandling of information,” Professor McGonagall muttered, hands wringing at her torso. She sat herself down in an armchair, Hermione still breathing heavily. She felt hot, almost overheated. In the office, Hermione felt trapped, suffocated. Her chest heaved, and she moved to lean against a column. 

“So… Were all matches this absurd? Or was there true logic in them?” Hermione questioned, hand at the back of her neck. 

“Muggle-borns were matched with a purer-blood. Either half or pure,” Snape interjected, face flat. “The Prophet reported that the matches were based on bloodline, intelligence, education level, and emotional compatibility.” 

“Emotional compatibility?” Hermione roared, pushing herself from the column. “What about the two of us is emotionally compatible!?” 

“Lower your voice.” Snape commanded, narrowing his eyes at the witch. 

“How do we get out of it?” 

McGonagall jerked her head up at Hermione, eyes wide. 

“Get… out of it? Oh, my dear. You cannot… But it may only last a few years. The Ministry cannot continue this for ever.” 

“But they bloody did it in the first place.” Snape grumbled. 

“This would all explain why the students were staring at me during breakfast this morning…” Hermione thought out loud, blushing at her realization.

“Perhaps it was your hair,” Snape stabbed at her, smirking. Hermione self-consciously smoothed her hair. 

“At least mine’s freshly washed.” She responded, raising an eyebrow. The git fell silent and turned back to McGonagall. 

“You will need to be married before the first of the month.” The Headmistress uttered, eyes falling to the ground. 

Before the end of the month… October would arrive next Friday… Less than a week! No. Hermione was not ready for this. It couldn’t happen. She peeked at Snape, watching him standing calm across the room. 

“How are you so calm!?” Hermione shouted, hands thrown out at her sides. 

“I’ve been aware of this information for several hours… And I’ve read over the contract.” 

“What contract?” 

“There should be one waiting for you in your chambers. It was delivered via owl,” McGonagall chimed in. The room began to spin… There was a contract! She was to be married to Snape, with or without her choice in the matter.

“I can’t. No--” Hermione began to run, bolting out of the office. She raced down the spiral stairs, out onto the landing, and continued through the castle. Stopping only once for a gathering of first years, she picked up her speed, sprinting to her chambers not far from the stairs to the dungeons. 

The dungeons in which she would be living as Lady Snape. Mrs. Severus Snape. As she broke into her room, she slammed the door behind her and fell onto her hands and knees as she slipped on something beneath her feet. 

Hermione look beneath her leg to see a crushed roll of parchment. The fucking contract. Picking it up, she crushed it in her hands, tossing it across the room. She let out a loud scream and stood up. Stripping, she crawled in her bed wearing a simple brasserie and her knickers. She closed her eyes, thinking of any kind of loophole for the marriage law. 

What was Kingsley thinking? Allowing the ministry to pass such an absurd law. Hermione groaned, flopping over in the bed. 

She was supposed to marry Ron--not Severus. Honestly, not anyone else. Perhaps Viktor… But that was a different time. It was a long time ago... Hermione was a changed woman. The war changed her, just as it had changed everyone. But, what would her life be like now that she was to be married to her former professor, and now apprentice? Could she even continue to have him as her potions master? 

She laid in bed for hours, not moving to even go to the bathroom. Hermione could not shut off her brain. It went back and forth between being terrified and angry about the impending marriage, to be nervous and slightly excited. A small part of her was even looking forward to it. However, she knew that it would be an arduous journey, being Snape’s wife. 

He was not a kind man. He did not express his emotions freely, as she did. Severus Snape was a man of mystery and intrigue. Hermione found herself thinking back to the night in the rain. His body resting on the motorcycle. Where was that man? Hermione crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Crookshanks. Picking up the crumbled contract, she untied the wrinkled red ribbon and opened it back up with care. 

She read with focus, eyes running over the pages. They were to be married as soon as possible. Consummation should take place within one week and continue weekly until a child is conceived. Hermione groaned loudly at this. Snape’s baby… Growing inside her? It was almost too much to handle. 

Next, she read about the punishment… Revokement of wands, a massive fine, and even imprisonment-- All if they did not marry, and if they did not conceive a child within one year of marriage. After one year without a pregnancy, the couple would be required to seek infertility treatment at St. Mungo’s for analyzation. 

Overall, Hermione decided that it could not horrendous. She would plan on avoiding Snape as much as she could, focusing on building her career. And it would not last forever, just as McGonagall said. This gave her hope. Then, the fear that she may actually become pregnant with Snape’s child paralyzed her. Hermione had no choice. She had to do this.

 

Emerging from her room, Hermione was dressed in a pair of jeans, a burnt orange turtleneck, and a pair of knee-high brown leather boots. She knocked on the classroom door, stepping back to await his answer. 

Snape opened the door, an influx of air thrusting his hair back. She stepped inside, forcing him to move to the side. 

“I’ll do it.” 

“And I am supposed to thank you? You realize this is a requirement by law, and not a self-made request.” Snape uttered, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. 

“I’m simply letting you know that I’ll be there when McGonagall marries us.” 

Snape peered at her with an emotionless glare.

“What demands do you have?” He asked, then let out a sigh and continued. “That’s what you came here for.” 

“That I keep my cat and I am free to go and do as I please.” 

“No.” Snape said firmly. 

“To which?” 

“You may not go and do as you please. A wizarding marriage, because you’re not familiar, states that the husband is to be in constant knowledge of his wife’s whereabouts… However, the cat can stay as long as it doesn’t get into anything. If it does, it goes. But, you will live in my chambers and will take my last name.” 

“No.” 

“Quid pro quo, Granger.” 

“I will not take your last name! It is the only thing left that’s mine.” She cried defensively, eyes wide.

“If you are to be married, it is a requirement from the ministry to change your last name to the wizard’s.” 

Hermione groaned loudly, throwing her hands in the air. She contemplated this; was Snape lying to be an ass, or was he telling her the truth? Why would he lie about this? Just to possess her, perhaps... Only a man who desires something would lie for possession. This thought brought a slight curve to her lips. 

“I’ll take your name, and you’ll allow me to have one night a week where you do not know of my plans or whereabouts. And you cannot say anything if I choose to tell you.” Hermione moved to put her back against one of the desks, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. Snape narrowed his eyes, uncrossing his arms. He placed them in the pockets of his jacket, moving his jaw back and forth in contemplation. 

“You will remain monogamous.” 

“Obviously. The contract requires it. But that does not mean I’m not allowed to visit friends, go out for a drink, or simply go for a night walk alone.” 

Snape raised his chin, looking down at the witch. 

“Very well then.” 

Silence wedged uncomfortably between them, Hermione ready to ask her last question.

“Um… What about my apprenticeship? Would we continue, even though it might show favoritism?” 

“We should continue. You were my apprentice before you will be my wife.” 

“Right,” Hermione stated, her arm bent up, fingers running over her lips. She could not stop thinking about the wedding. And, of course, the wedding night. “Thursday night, should that be the ceremony?” 

“That would be the last possible minute. So, yes. We will also need two witnesses, as the contract states.” 

“Ginny and Harry.” 

“No. Not the Potters.” Snape shook his head quickly and firmly, letting out a long sigh. 

“Who then? I’d prefer the witnesses to be people who know us both. And those who can keep a bloody secret.” Hermione responded acidly, scowling. 

Snape rolled his eyes heavily, then spoke: “The Potters, then. Thursday night. Now, if you have nothing else, leave.” He dismissed her with the wave of his hand, standing erect. He flowed past her, through the rows of desk, storming into his office. 

Hermione exhaled a defeated sigh, feeling tears well in her eyes. 

 

The next week traveled painfully quickly, the wedding growing closer every day. Hermione left the castle on Monday night, meeting Ginny in Hogsmeade. 

“You’re so lucky you’re married. You and Harry. Merlin knows who you’d be matched with.” Hermione uttered, nursing her butterbeer. Ginny sipped on a warm mug of tea, holding onto her growing belly. She was due in a few short months with their first baby. 

“‘Mione… You know that if Ron was here, you’d be married. This was just not the way we saw things going.” Ginny exhaled heavily, eyes sad.

“No… Not at all. Also, I, um… I have something to tell you.” 

Ginny leaned forward, hand on the top of her belly so that it would fit under the table. 

“Snape and I almost slept together.” 

Ginny’s eyes grew wide and she moved back, erect with the booth behind her. She put a hand over her mouth, and then Hermione bit her lip. 

“You’re joking!” 

“No… But I wish I was. The night I went out, just before I moved back to the castle, I met this man on a motorcycle. And it was him. But, he didn’t realize it was me! I was wearing that stupid bloody wig.” 

Again, Ginny’s eyes widened. A small chuckle erupted from her mouth, and Hermione felt the laughter rise deep from her belly. She opened her mouth to speak, laughing harder. “I know! It’s as crazy as it sounds. We kissed, my wig came off, and he was furious. But I thought it was going to happen… And I… Well, I wanted it to.” 

“Sleep with Snape? Hermione! What!?” 

Hermione hid her face with shame, shoulders bobbing with giggles. The red-headed girl picked up her tea cup, sipping from it in silence. 

“Gin, he’s… He’s different. He’s not the same man he used to be. He’s also a lot stronger, I mean. He’s well, muscular.” 

“Are you meaning to tell me Snape got hot?” 

Hermione contorted her face in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she was telling Ginny this. Merlin, Harry would find out and nearly have a fit!

“Yes… But still! Just because he’s a little more buff than he was a few years ago doesn’t mean I want to marry the asshole. He’s still terribly mean, and makes me feel like a complete idiot.” 

“Perhaps you’ll become friends, at the very least. You need a companion in the castle. What with Harry and I about to become parents…” 

“About that,” Hermione started, finishing off her butterbeer. The rich foam tingled her throat as it trickled down. “Snape and I talked, and we decided for you to be the witnesses on Thursday...” 

“You know we wouldn’t miss it for the world. Especially to poke a little fun.” Ginny grinned, a long strand of red hair slipping over her shoulder. Hermione rolled her eyes, imagining the jokes Harry would make. 

“I need to find something to wear… I don’t have anything white.” 

“Let’s pop into one of the dress shops down the road! They’ve got to have something.” Ginny exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. 

And right she was. They had the perfect dress for the ceremony. A simple cream-colored satin dress with three-quarter length sleeves and a slim fitting bodice. The neckline cut square across her collarbones and the skirt flared out to fall at her knees.

She spun slightly, looking at herself once more in the mirror propped up against the wall in her bedroom. It was simple, but elegant. Hermione had wanted her wedding to be different than how it was going to proceed. A small ceremony, the room filled with warm flowers. A sweeping train and lace veil, her hair long and sleek. But she knew it could not happen that way. 

That night, Hermione took a long sip of the Dreamless Sleep and feel into a blissful oblivion, away from the worries of the world.


	7. Seven

Severus Snape tapped his foot impatiently in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall stood to his right, colored by the large stained glass behind them on the wall. The room had turned itself into a simple hall: dark wood floors, the ceiling above them held by massive wooden X beams, white curtains hanging all along the wall. Pale blue candles floated above them, warm light radiating through the room. 

He had to admit--it was a nice setting for what it was. He had never pictured himself getting married, let alone to the Granger girl. Severus wanted to keep an open mind, but found himself growing anxious and then angry at the thought of being her babysitter. He looked over his shoulder, Harry Potter twiddling his thumbs, looking up in the air at the candles. Severus rolled his eyes, knowing full and well that Potter was just dragged along because of Ginny.

The doors opened, Ginny walking down the short path to where Severus and Harry were standing. She wore a knee-length navy wrap dress, waddling slightly from the weight of her pregnant belly. Severus smiled tightly at the witch, watching her take her place across from him. He turned his attention back to the doors, Hermione entering, Severus waiting with bated breath. 

Hermione made her way towards her friends, the nude pumps on her feet clicking against the wood. She wore them out of spite, knowing they would annoy her future husband. But Severus found himself looking longingly at her slim legs and strong calves. Her hair was pinned back, brown ringlets fall down around her face. He inhaled sharply, squeezing his hands. He noticed the way the dress swayed as she continued towards him. Her cheeks were rosy, either from blush or natural tone, and her eyelashes were long and black... Mascara? He realized she had put on makeup. 

Then, before they knew it, Hermione was sliding a ring on Severus’ finger, and he did the same. McGonagall closed the heavy book in her hands, announcing them to be married. Ginny and Harry both clapped awkwardly echoing uncomfortably loud in the small room. As the new couple, Severus took ahold of Hermione’s hand, making their way towards the tall double doors of the Room of Requirement. She felt her palm grow sweaty in the grip of Severus’ hand. He let go of it as soon as they exited the room, stepping away as Hermione waited for the Potters.

“Thanks for coming.” Hermione smiled grimly, pulling Ginny and then Harry into a hug. 

“You look beautiful. Congratulations, Mrs. Snape.” Ginny grinned cheekily. 

“Ugh… To soon.” Harry joked, pulling his wife to him at the waist. “Do you need any help moving your things?” he asked. 

“No. I had Dobby move them over this morning.” Hermione said, eyes heavy with defeat. “I’ll write you soon.” Hermione hugged them once more, watching as they walked away with Professor McGonagall. She sighed heavily, making her way to join Snape. 

He glanced at her once more, noticing the way her hazel eyes glowed in the evening sun streaming through the windows. 

“Um… Shall we?” She questioned, watching as he refocused his gaze on her eyes. Snape proceeded to turn on his heel and move down the hallway at an alarmingly fast speed. Hermione could hardly keep up in her heels, and at one point, put her hand against the stone wall to remove them. Snape was far down the corridor in front of her, so she sped up the pace and nearly broke into a run. On her bloody wedding day! 

They traveled through the castle, turning left down a corridor Hermione had never traveled. It was growing darker, eventually turning pitch black. Snape’s shoes echoed in the stone hall, Hermione a few feet behind him. She could see only his form and nothing more. Every few paces, a candle glowed on the wall. Snape withdrew his wand, illuminating the tip. He stopped abruptly and gestured to the floor. Hermione turned her attention to it, studying the mark closely.

A small gold emblem was set in the stone, a serpent and ivy intertwining. He pointed his wand towards the shining metal and uttered: “Serpentus vectimus.” Before them, the stone began to swirl, and a wide black metal door emerged. 

Snape pushed the door open, stepping inside. Hermione followed, stopping a few inches to the left for her new husband the close the door. He waved his wand and a massive space before her was illuminated. To her right, a large stone fireplace crackled with hot flames. Directly across from it sat a long brown leather couch. Hermione smiled at the coffee table, which was covered in stacks of books. A lone quill was strewn across the surface of the black velvet armchair, to the left of the fireplace. The large ornate chandelier hung in the middle of the room, between the living area and the dining space. A long, slender table was centered over a maroon oriental rug. 

Crookshanks was curled up in one of the six black high-back dining room chairs, letting out small high-pitched breaths. Snape stepped further into the room, reaching up to undo his neck scarf, he let the ends hang down over his dress robes. Hermione followed, continuing to study the room. Across the space was a small staircase that led to a landing halfway up the wall, and a door slightly open… Snape’s bedroom. Hermione inhaled sharply, thinking of what her night might become. 

Beneath the stairs sat another door, closed. Hermione felt curiosity rise inside her, but she suppressed the thought to ask Snape what was behind the door. She turned to face the fire, standing behind the couch. The wizard had removed his shoes and was sitting in the velvet armchair, reading a book. Around the living space, shoes, books, empty potion vials and quills were scattered. Hermione stiffened, slightly off-put. She knew that they were his living quarters, but the least he could do was pick up his shit!

“Are my things…?” She asked quietly, putting her pumps in her left hand, rubbing the back of her neck with her right hand. 

“In the bedroom. You will have space next to mine in the wardrobe. The trunk at the end of the bed also has a place for your… Erm. Delicates.” Snape glanced up at her from his book, shifting his eyes uncomfortably at the end of his sentence. 

Hermione nodded and proceeded to make her way across the living room, climbing the stairs. She ran her hand along the wrought iron railing, stopping just before the door. Pushing it open further, she stood to look it over. In the center of the room sat a massive black four-poster bed. It had high posts with intricate carvings, like a medieval style cathedral. The bed was unmade, and held a set of white sheets and a thick grey quilt balled up at the foot. Several pillows were scattered on the floor around the bed, two sitting on the trunk at the end. Hermione looked to her left and smiled. Three windows curved together; beneath them was a plush seat covered in books and a pair of trousers. To her surprise, the chambers were not beneath the ground, as she thought they were. Snape’s chambers were much higher, and overlooked the lake, sweeping views of the rolling hills behind them. Moonlight shone, reflecting on the still water. 

Hermione turned around, seeing a tall wardrobe across from the trunk, one door opened. Snape’s everyday uniform was hanging neatly on a hanger. She proceeded to walk across the room and open the other side, seeing that it was empty. He had a select few pieces of clothing, not to Hermione’s surprise. Her trunks were laid out to the left of the wardrobe, and she flicked her wand to open them and began to hang her things up. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed after putting her pumps at the bottom of the wardrobe. 

In the bottom of her clothing trunk were her intimate items… In which she did not want Snape seeing. But, she decided it was to happen eventually. After moving the pillows from the top of the trunk, Hermione opened it to reveal Snape’s underwear and socks. What!? They were going to share an underwear drawer? Ugh. Picking up a pair of grey cotton pants with a suspicious pinch, Hermione bit her lip. She imagined him wearing the tight fitting boxer briefs. No! Stop. Putting them back in the wad in which she found them, Hermione proceeded to unpack her delicates. First, she put down her knickers, then her bras and stacked her two items of lingerie on top. 

Wait. Should she wear one tonight? Hermione scratched her cheek, contemplating. If she were to have sex with her new husband tonight, she should plan accordingly. Holding up the lavender babydoll, the witch hummed and hawed. Laying it down over the edge, she reached back into the trunk to pull out her camisole and knicker set in black silk. Something she had bought for herself years earlier… And never worn. She padded across the room into the bathroom, closing the door behind her before turning around to get a look. 

In the center of the room, a large circular bathtub was set deep in the floor. To her left, a long set of cabinets and two sinks. Hermione glanced around, noticing the shower to her right. The doors were clear glass, and she inspected the bottles sitting on the shelves. Shifting around, Hermione looked back to the sink. Snape’s towel had been tossed haphazardly over one half of the sink. A shaving brush and straight razor were placed carefully in front of a collection of glass containers. Each held a different color of liquid. She inspected each carefully, lifting the lid to smell them. 

A knock at the door made her jump, her hand coming to her chest. 

“I’m going to dress out here… Please knock before you exit.” Snape spoke softly, his head clearly close to the door. She pictured him leaning in delicately, his index finger curved to knock. 

“I’ll be out in a bit.” Hermione replied, putting her case of toiletries on top of the empty counter. She began the process of unpinning her hair, letting it fall down over her shoulders. She smoothed it over a few times, playing with the curls. After accepting defeat, Hermione unzipped her wedding dress, holding her wand to have it float while she changed into the camisole and panty set. 

The black camisole had thin straps which would not stay up on her shoulders, one slipping and falling to rest on her bicep. Lace adorned the top, tickling her collarbones. The knickers were cheeky and all lace. Hermione glanced down between her legs… Oh Merlin. She needed to shave! She held her wand over her pubic area and groomed the hair to her liking. With satisfaction, the witch brushed her teeth and ran her fingers through her hair one last time. Picking up her wedding dress, Hermione folded it over her arm and stood in front of the bathroom door. 

Knocking, she waited for his response. 

“Come.” 

Opening the door, the lights were dimmed, a few candles around the room glowing. Snape was resting in bed wearing a pair of long pants and a black t-shirt. His hands were folded behind his head, eyes watching her as she proceeded to walk to the wardrobe. Hermione felt extremely underdressed and wanted to change immediately. However, she caught the professor staring at her curves from the corner of her eye. She hung the wedding dress up in the wardrobe, closing both doors. 

Hermione noticed that Snape had already picked his side of the bed, in which Hermione was to get the side closest to the bathroom. She had to get on the tips of her toes to crawl onto the bed, sitting awkwardly with her legs folded beneath her. Sitting in silence, Snape closed his eyes, as if he were going to fall asleep that moment. Now was her chance. 

“Um… So, should we?” 

“No.” Snape opened his eyes at once, sitting up slightly. Hermione tried not to let her face show disappointment, but also felt a wave of relief roll through her. 

“Uh, well. So, then, goodnight?” She questioned, moving to sit beside him in the bed. The mattress was large enough that they did not touch, but Hermione felt his body heat radiate towards her. 

“Cover yourself.” He moved his legs beneath the covers, pulling them up over his torso. Snape then reached over to toss them over Hermione’s bare legs. Rolling over on her side, Hermione moved to wiggle herself further beneath the covers. How had she come to be this person? All Hermione wanted was to be in her own bed, alone with Crookshanks. Not with this horrid man who seemed to have no motive but to make her life a living hell. The pillowcase beneath her head became wet, and she soon realized it was from the tears. Stifling a sob, she clamped her eyes shut, forcing herself to go to sleep.


	8. Eight

When Severus awoke, he was on his back, grimacing. His back was stiff, and rolling over onto his side was challenging. Sleep called for him once more, and he struggled to stay awake. He had much to do that day. Potions to review, lessons to plan. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find Hermione sound asleep on her back, the covers thrown off of her. Her left hand was above her head, concealed by her thick curls. Her right arm was dangerously close to his body, and Severus was careful not to touch it. The supple skin of her inner thigh was exposed, her left leg bent. A small birthmark adorned the inside of her knee, and he longed to study it further. His eyes traveled the length of her body, smiling slightly at her elongated belly button exposed beneath the camisole she worn. She inhaled sharply and adjusted her position, rolling over onto her side towards him, her left hand tucked beneath her chin. Hermione smacked her lips slightly, and began to breathe heavy once more. The slim gold band on her ring finger sparkled in the morning sun streaming through his window. 

Moving carefully, he slipped out of bed, walking as quietly as possible to the bathroom. He ran a hot shower, enjoying the water beat on his sore back. The years of being a Death Eater had worn on him, giving him both physical and emotional scars. As he stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, Severus felt himself thinking back to the previous night. Watching the little witch emerge from his bathroom in that outfit, knowing full and well what might happen. The minx had prepared for it! Huffing, he ran his hand over the mirror to wipe away the condensation, studying himself. Severus’s chest had a fair amount of hair, some tinted with the slightest touch of silver. Down his abdomen, his musculature was showing--he had worked hard for it. The wizard knew the only wait to combat the physical abuse he endured was to fight against it with exercise and strength-building. A thin trail of black hair led from beneath his belly button to below his belt line. 

He dropped the towel, tossing it onto the sink. Running his fingers through his stringy, wet hair, Severus yawned, yearning for more sleep. He brushed his teeth quickly, applied deodorant and conjured his clothes from the wardrobe in his bedroom. As he finished the last button on his jacket, Severus then began to tie the scarf around his neck, tucking it down into the fabric at his chest. He swung the bathroom door open, tugging on the ends of the white shirt sleeves beneath his jacket. Severus paused for a moment, glancing at the women asleep in his bed. She had not moved, still sighing heavily. How could this be? A witch like her, sharing his bed? It felt foreign to him, this person invading his privacy. Severus gently closed the bedroom door behind him, making his way down the stairs, and taking a sharp right to stand before the door beneath the stair landing. 

Speaking with soft breath, Snape pointed his wand at the keyhole, the door unlocking for him. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. His long fingers clutched the cold wood, his chest heaving. He felt sick to his stomach. It was wrong, having her there, living with him. Shaking the thought from his head, Severus moved to the center of the room in which his massive potions table resided. It was covered in shimmering blue dust, from a broken jar of powdered bluebonnets. In the center, above the Bunsen burner was his gold cauldron, waiting to be used. 

He brewed for what seemed like hours, intensely focusing on the important potion in front of him. Severus heard a knock at the door, freezing with his wand pointed at the cauldron. 

“Yes?” He asked, waiting. 

“I’ve had Dobby bring us lunch… If you want…” She must have been standing a ways back, as her voice sounded muffled. 

After contemplating for a few brief moments, Severus decided he needed to eat. He could no longer ignore the rumbling of his stomach. Turning the heat down on the flame, he made his way to the door, opening it just enough to slip through. The witch was settled at the table in front of him, legs crossed beneath her. She wore a pair of black lounge pants and a maroon turtleneck. A pair of tortoise-shell spectacles rested on the tip of her nose, Hermione’s finger reaching up to push them back up towards her bridge. 

“Oh. I had Dobby bring what you usually eat, or so he said. I hope it’s okay… I didn’t know.” She shrugged, looking up from the book spread out to the side of her plate. A roasted chicken breast laid on the white plate, with a cup of leek soup to the right. A small spoonful of mashed potatoes sat at the front of the plate. Pumpkin juice filled the bronze goblet at the front. He grinned tightly, as to not disappoint her. It was his favorite meal. 

As he sat in the chair, eating in silence, Severus glanced up to notice the witch reading. She flipped the pages with great speed, her eyes racing through the words. He’d never seen anyone read as fast as she did. 

“I didn’t know you wore spectacles.” he said, taking a sip from his goblet. 

“Just within the last year. And only for reading. Bless my parents and their poor genetics.” She grinned gently up at him before turning her attention back to the book. Severus chewed slowly, studying her once more. Freckles were scattered across her cheekbones. The long front teeth she had years ago were gone, covered by a slightly pouting set of lips. Her bushy eyebrows had thinned out slightly, but were a prominent defining feature of her heart-shaped face. 

“Sir?” Hermione asked, turning her attention to the wizard. She had her face turned down, looking at him over the glasses. 

“Don’t call me that.” But he stiffened when she did. It felt different, her calling him that now. Almost… wrong. “Just… Severus.” 

“I don’t think I can do that yet.” Hermione blushed, closing her book. “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I think we need to.” 

Severus let out a long sigh, dropping his fork to pinch the bridge of his nose. He did not want to even think about it. No. He did not. 

Hermione continued. “We have until next Thursday to consummate the marriage. Neither of us wants to, but it must be done in order to avoid punishment. And I, for one, do not want to end up with my wand snapped, or even in Azkaban.” 

Snape chuckled at her ignorance, shaking his head. “Do you truly believe we’ll be reprimanded so heavily? You know so little.” 

“I don’t think you know enough. We should pick a night, and plan accordingly.” Hermione slipped the glasses off, folding them and resting them on top of her book. He read the spine, pleased. Flowers, Their Roots, and Magical Uses Volume 12.

Casually, Snape relaxed against the back of his chair, snapping his fingers, the dining sets in front of them disappearing. He wanted to prolong the consummation as long as he could. That meant next Thursday night, but that would not be convenient. He had an exam to give the next day, and 16 inches of parchment to grade for the fifth years during the week. Severus knew it would have to be within the next two days, over the weekend. 

“Let us get it over with, and give ourselves time before the next date,” he said at once, watching the witch’s reaction. 

“I was thinking this Saturday night. A weekend, so that we can avoid a busy school night, and we could have twelve days before the next required, uh, arrangement.” 

Hermione felt her palms grow sweaty at the thought of sleeping with Snape in less than 36 hours. Would he be gentle? The witch was not a virgin, but was still inexperienced in many ways. Ronald was the first, of course. Then, there were others. Some she didn’t remember, even. 

Her thoughts traveled to the bedroom, fantasizing about his arms around her, Snape kissing her naked shoulders, her breasts… 

“Very well then. Saturday night. Now, I have work to do. Don’t disturb me.” He stood abruptly, the chair screeching back across the wood floor. Snape flew into the room beneath the stairs once more, slamming the door behind him. It locked loudly, and Hermione relaxed slightly. 

She slid her glasses back on, turning her attention to the book. “Rose petals had many uses in potions, especially desire-based formulas--” Should she wear something nice again? Hermione shook her head, remembering the previous night and how well her outfit worked. Seducing him with lingerie would not be the way. In fact, she was almost certain she would not be able to seduce him at all. He seemed stiff around her, uncomfortable. The wizard showed no signs of attraction. Except the night they kissed… And the way his hand brushed against her ass when she was brewing the Dreamless Sleep. 

No! 

Severus Snape did not desire her, she was sure of it. He desired the woman beneath the black wig, someone who was confident and powerful. A temptress. Everything Hermione craved to be, but did not feel she was. Around Ronald, she felt on top of the world. He had made her laugh, lifted her up when she was sad, and encouraged her to pursue her dreams. Ronald was her best friend. 

At that moment, she felt her chest heave, pain ripping through her. Hermione stood quickly, rushing to the bedroom. Changing quickly, she hurried down the stairs and through the living room to leave the chambers. Barely closing the door, Hermione broke out in a run down the black corridor. 

Snape paused, a beaker in his hand, turning to listen. He had heard Hermione’s footsteps above in the bedroom, then down the stairs and through the living room. Then, the door. Where had she gone? He knew that he was to be informed at all times of her whereabouts. Feeling himself grow angry, he set down the beaker, curling his hands into fists. Snape felt the madness build in him, as if he were a cauldron about to boil over. Straightening, he closed his eyes, calming himself. 

That evening, Hermione returned, thankful for her good memory as she stopped in front of the gold emblem on the floor. Uttering the password, she opened the door as soon as it had appeared, turning to close it behind her. Snape was seated in the velvet armchair, a book open in one of his palms. In the other, a glass of whisky. 

Hermione began to make her way up to the bedroom to change, but halted when she heard his voice, low and crawling towards her. 

“Where were you?” 

She had prepared for this. Her exit had been hasty and unplanned, an accidental breech to their contract. Snape had asked for few things, but had demanded she give him her whereabouts. 

“The library.” This was the truth, but Snape’s reaction made Hermione feel as though he did not believe her. 

“If I could give you detention or force you to scrub cauldrons for you insolence, I would. But I cannot. In this case, you are my wife. Not my student, nor my apprentice.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at Snape, his face glowing orange from the fire. “If you don’t believe me, ask Madam Pince. I have been there all afternoon.” 

“It’s not a matter of whether or not you’re lying. It’s a matter of you communicating your location and plans. As we agreed upon before we were wed. Or does your little girlish brain fail to remember?” 

Now, he was angry, speaking with a hateful tone towards her. Hermione felt herself growing hot, emotion searing through every bone in her body. She wanted to lash out at him, throw something at him. 

“I remember quite well, thank you. Now, if you’re done berating me, I’m off to bed.” This would either dismiss his challenging words, or prompt more acidic ones. To Hermione’s disappointment, was the latter. As she began climbing up the stairs, she entered the bedroom and heard his heavy footsteps following her. 

“You will tell me where you going. At. All. Times.” Snape stood widely in the doorway, hand gripping the door frame with white knuckles. 

“We agreed upon one day in which I was to be allowed not to tell you. This was my day,” she said simply, beginning to take off her sweater. This would remove him from the room, Hermione knew. Snape, however, did not falter. 

“Perhaps we should have agreed upon that… this morning.” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset? I assure you I was in the library, not with another man, not telling all your dirty secrets. Honestly,” she breathed, slipping off her ankle boots and reaching to unzip her denim trousers. Looking up, Snape’s eyes had fallen to her breasts beneath the triangular bralette. 

“Miss Granger,” Snape began, but stopped. He dropped his hand from the door frame, flexing and extending his fingers. “Mrs. Snape.” Narrowing his eyes at her, he smiled sickly. This was a stab, he knew. 

“Don’t call me that.” She uttered, stepping out of her trousers, now in her underwear before him. She still had on the thick woolen socks, hovering uncomfortably before the wardrobe. Hermione hated that. She hated that it was her name, her definition. It was not supposed to be that way. A stolen independence. Turning, she felt tears well in her eyes. This was not what she wanted. Not at all. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, breathing raggedly. She would not let him see her cry. Wiping one tear, she turned around. 

Snape’s smile had disappeared. He realized what he’d done, but did not falter. Standing with his arms crossed, the witch glared at him angrily. Her eyes were red, but no tears had stained her face. 

“I’m going to bed.” Dismissing him, she reached into the wardrobe to pull out a pair of tight-fitting pants and a loose-fitting muggle shirt. Severus remained, watching as she began to reach around her back to unfasten her bra. He slipped out of the room quickly, leaving the door open. Severus wanted to hurt her, yes. But had he wanted to bring about so much pain that she cried? Not necessarily. 

He went back to the chair by the fire, nursing the last of his whiskey. An hour later, he emerged in the bedroom, one candle glowing by the window. Hermione was fast asleep, the quilt tucked under her chin. Snape undressed in the darkness, wearing the same thing he had worn the night before. With much discomfort and caution, he slipped beneath the covers on the bed, careful not to wake the witch. He struggled to fall asleep, unable to roll over on his left side, as he would have to face her.


	9. Nine

Hermione woke with a jolt, eyes wide in the dark room. She glanced to her right and saw Snape snoring softly, mouth open. His hand was draped over her waist, his body pressed against her. She peeled herself from him, the right side of her body damp with sweat. The witch suddenly came to the realization that she would be sleeping next to this sweaty, mean man for the rest of her life. Rolling over, she closed her eyes once more, hoping to dream about a more pleasant future. 

When she woke again, he was gone. Hermione was alone in the bed, sprawled out in the middle. Glancing around, she saw him standing in front of the wardrobe, buttoning his jacket. 

“Good morning,” Hermione uttered, sitting up in the bed. She rubbed her eyes and attempted to smooth down her frizzy curls. 

“I’ve left two vials of potion for you tonight. They’re on your sink in the bathroom.” 

“Vials? Of what? What could I possibly need a potion for?” She asked, stretching her neck and then pulling the quilt up to her belly. 

“It’s up to you whether or not to take them. Calming draught and arousal elixir.” 

“Are you going to take any?” She questioned, watching as he tied the scarf hurriedly, as if the wizard had done it hundreds of times. Snape turned to face her full on, face flat. His hands fell to his sides, the scarf at his neck tucked neatly in his jacket. 

“No.” 

“Fine.” Hermione huffed, annoyed at the wizard. He held his chin high, making the witch feel small. “I’m going out today. Perhaps a walk around the lake. Just so you can… Be aware of my whereabouts.” She rolled her eyes, scooting out of bed. Snape paused as he stepped out of the bedroom, fingers wrapping about the edge of the door. 

“Very well. Make sure you’re back in time for this evening.” He ordered, slightly elevating his right eyebrow. Hermione nodded in agreement and waited for the professor to close the door before she fell back onto the bed, arms out beside her. Groaning, Hermione thought about the upcoming evening. Sleeping with Severus Snape, her former professor, now husband. It would have to be done. Curiosity rose inside her, wondering what he might be like. Gentle, moving his hands gently across her torso and back as she sat on top of him, riding him in ecstasy… Or, perhaps shy… He would not even touch her unless she asked, the lights off. Hermione then began to imagine if he were rough. A hand gripping her hair, pulling her head back, slapping her across the ass with the flip of his hand. 

Then she froze, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling. These were all scenarios that would take place if he were even remotely sexually attracted to her. Hermione sat up, tugging on her pajama shorts, balling the fabric in her fists. She rocked back and forth, breathing quickly. Clamping her eyes shut once more, the witch vowed to make him want her. 

 

In Hogsmeade, leaves crunched beneath Hermione’s feet, a light breeze blowing them into piles in the alleys and storefronts. She swallowed her guilt, knowing that the village was not a place she had told Severus. However, it wasn’t for long. Just to purchase something she knew would drive the professor mad. 

After she stepped out of the concealed boutique at one end of the village, Hermione froze, moving to slip into the small alley by the shop. Her husband had made his way quickly from behind the building across from her, glancing both ways before pulling a black scarf up over his head and hurrying back towards the castle. Severus held a small box in his hand. Sudden thoughts began to burst in Hermione’s head and she wanted to quiet them. She couldn’t think straight with the many possibilities of the box contents. At first, Hermione thought it might be a present for her. But, she knew Severus better than that. He would not have gotten her a gift. Then, her mind wandered into the past… Dark arts, and his ever-varying loyalty. 

No. It wasn’t possible. She knew, that it was nothing more than potions ingredients, or even some hard to brew potions for his stores. Hermione leaned to her right to make sure he was gone, and stepped onto the cobblestone street. Severus was almost out of sight, past the gate, and halfway up the hill towards the castle. His teaching robes billowed behind him in the wind, bringing with it a fine mist. The witch made her way up towards the castle, making sure to stay out of sight from her husband far ahead. 

When she opened the door to Snape’s chambers, he was seated before the fire, hunched over in his chair. Hermione crept in quietly, hoping to head to the bathroom and relax in the tub before the stressful events of the evening unfolded. 

“Where have you been?” 

“I’ve been out, just as I told you this morning.” 

“Where?” He sat up straight now, and she could see that Severus was grimacing slightly. 

“Hogsmeade. I purchased a new quill and a couple of books. Is that alright with you?” Hermione questioned, moving to put her hands on the back of the leather sofa. She gripped the edge tightly, feeling her palms grow damp. 

“If you were going to Hogsmeade, you should have told me this morning.” He spat, standing to face the fire. His right hand flew out and grabbed ahold of the wooden mantle. Severus leaned against it for support. 

“Is it so that I wouldn’t see you sneaking around the village?” She uttered coldly, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you do or where you go. I could care less.” 

“That’s touching. Do not mistake me, Hermione.” Chillingly, Severus turned, his hand tucking into the pocket of his jacket. She noticed in his left hand, he held a glass of whiskey. “You will tell me where you are going. And you will not lie to me.” 

“I didn’t lie! I told you I was going out!” She cried, feeling herself grow hot. Then, she realized. This wasn’t about her. “I’m not going to tell anyone about what I saw or where you were. You’re my husband and that would be betrayal.” 

Severus held the glass up to his mouth, drinking slowly, his eyes on her. He moved to sit back down in the black velvet chair, throwing one leg over the other knee. Opening his mouth, he began to speak softer. “We have a busy night ahead of us. I suggest you do whatever you need to do to prepare.” 

Dismissing her, Hermione shook her head in anger, moving from behind the sofa to climb the stairs at the end of the room. She closed the bedroom door and held her hands up to her mouth, letting out a stifled scream. Anger coursed through her, boiling her blood. She wanted to hit something, but restrained herself. There was not one bone in Hermione’s body that wanted to sleep with Snape that night. Then, she remembered… The wig. 

In the bathroom, Hermione sank further deep into the bathtub filled high with water and rose-scented bubbles. Her hair was pinned back behind her head, her eyes closed to enjoy the warm water. Thinking back to one of the first nights as Snape’s apprentice, Hermione was close to falling asleep once more. Traveling deep into her thoughts, she continued the fantasy… 

Her ass was now firmly planted on the desk in his office, spreading her legs as wide as her skirt would allow. Severus stood between them, hands on her waist and then slipping down her back towards her small, rounded ass. Hermione could feel his tenting pants against her inner thigh, hot to the touch. She let out a sharp breath, opening her eyes to see him gazing at her. Leaning forward, his lips touched her exposed neck, biting softly. A whimper escaped her lips, her hands around his neck, fingers intertwined in his thick hair. As his wide hands moved up her back, she felt her bra spring loose, breasts cold in the office air. Severus’ pupils dilated with arousal, his body folding to lean and take a tiny pink nipple in his mouth. 

“Hurry up! There are other people who live here!” Hermione’s eyes opened at once, her heart pounding. The bubbles in the bath had dissipated and the witch realized she’d fallen asleep dreaming about him. She hurriedly climbed out of the tub, using wandless magic to drain and clean it as she pulled a towel around her. 

“I’ll be out in just a minute. Sorry!” She responded, calling out as she brushed her teeth quickly. The clock hanging on the wall to her left showed that it was nearly nine o’clock. Panic soared through her, the witch tightening the towel. She would have to dress out in the bedroom. 

The door opened to reveal Severus hovering with a scowl on his face, arms crossed. The witch tightened her grip on the towel, tip toeing by him as he pushed past her into the bathroom. When the door slammed, Hermione rushed over to the trunk, opening it. Hidden at the bottom of the tunk was the bag containing the lingerie she’d purchased earlier in Hogsmeade. As Hermione laid it out, she exhaled nervously, her breath ragged. Her hands shook as she began to dress, starting with the knickers. The scarlet lace knickers cut high on the leg and tied with silk ribbons on either thigh. Next, she slipped the bra up over her chest, fastening it in the back. Hermione ran her hands over it, blushing. She never imagined herself wearing something like this for her professor. Most definitely not. The cups of the bra were sheer red lace, the red boning exposing her nipples. 

Finally, Hermione closed the trunk, sitting on top of it to secure the black wig onto her head. As she smoothed the bob over her face and chin, she heard footsteps. Flipping her head around, she watched as Severus emerged from the bathroom, freezing as he saw her. 

“No. Absolutely not.” He shook his head, reaching up to undo the scarf at his neck, pulling it off. 

“Trust me!” Hermione exclaimed, standing. “I want this to be good for both of us. We are stuck together, aren’t we? Please.” She pleaded, approaching him. Severus stiffened, his hands falling from his collar, mouth slightly open. “You wanted to sleep with me that night… So, why not now? Just pretend it’s anyone… Anyone but me.” She uttered. 

He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He nervously pushed his hand up the back of his neck, running it through his hair. Severus moved around the witch, reaching to his neck to unbutton his jacket. 

“Where do you want me?” She asked a few moments later, eyes glued to the wizard. Severus had removed his jacket, revealing a white button-down shirt that was tucked into a pair of black dress pants. 

“The bed.” He uttered, facing away from her. Hermione felt wobbly as she made her way to sit on the edge of the bed, turning slightly to look behind her at Severus. He had taken off his shoes and socks, his feet a pale milky white. As he approached her slowly, the wizard began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, his arm bent at the elbow. 

Hermione let out a sharp breath, watching with anticipation as he came around the end of the bed, passed the trunk, and stood directly in front of her. His arms fell down at his side, exhaling. 

“On your belly.” She peered up at him beneath the black curtain of her wig. Severus did not budge, but stood, forearms exposed. In that brief moment, Hermione studied them. On his left forearm, the Dark Mark clashed against the pale sheet of his skin. “Now.” Severus commanded, scowling. 

Hermione hesitated, but complied. She laid on the bed, her feet planted firmly on the floor. As she closed, her eyes, leaning on her elbows, his touch electrified her. 

Severus felt along her curved back, down towards her rounded bottom. Clad in the red lace, he paused before pulling on end of the ribbon. One half of the knickers slipped over the smooth, supple skin and dangled over her right thigh. Severus felt himself grow hard. She wasn’t anyone… “Just another girl. Another easy, meaningless fuck…” He thought to himself, unzipping his pants, reaching inside. 

Hermione heard the zipper and had a deep desire to turn around, but could not bring herself to. The anticipation built in her, so she turned her head slightly. 

“Nox.” 

The lights went out in the room and she gasped, surprised. 

“Really?” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“Lay still.” As his hand brushed against the inside of her thigh, she stiffened. Severus began to speak once more, commanding her. “Spread your legs.” Hermione obliged, hunched over the bed with the tips of her toes on the ground. She felt the knickers slip off her thigh and glide down to the floor. A finger, no, two. The witch sighed softly, his long fingers slipping inside. Then, they were gone. Something warmer, wetter. His cock. 

Severus rubbed the tip of his cock against her wet folds. He slipped inside of her, pausing to adjust. She seemed to tighten around him, stiffen slightly. “Relax,” he told her, moving his other hand to feel in the black room for the frame of the bed. Severus pulled back and then began to move back and forth inside of the witch. Her warm silkiness felt incredible against his throbbing member. 

Hermione relaxed with him inside of her, waiting for it to be done. No touch; she would not enjoy the feeling of his hands against her. He did not grab her waist as he thrust into her, did not spank her. Hermione realized he did not want to do this. He did not want to fuck her, no matter what she wore, what color hair… No matter who she pretended to be. His pace quickened, and in a few moments, he stilled, groaning softly. She felt him spill into her, and as soon as she could, Hermione pushed herself off the bed and grabbed for her wand. 

“Lumos.” Severus had turned, tucking himself back in his pants. She found her knickers on the floor, grabbing them, sprinting across the bedroom to close the bathroom door behind her. Hermione slid down against the door, reaching around to unclasp the bra. She threw it across the room along with her knickers. Placing a silencing charm over the room, Hermione put her head in her hands, balling her hair up in her fists. “Fuck!” She screamed, throwing her hands down to slap against the cold floor. 

Severus changed into his pajamas, slipping beneath the covers. He dimmed the lights so that only the lamps on both nightstands gave a soft glow to the room. Lifting his book onto his check, he licked his index finger to flip the page. Hermione emerged from the bathroom, face splotchy and still wet from tears. She wore a pair of tight black pants and a loose sweater, barefooted. Silently, the witch crawled into bed, pulling the sheets and quilt up over her chin. Severus turned to her. 

“Never do that again.” The wizard ordered, closing his book and resting it on his chest. 

“What?” She questioned, rolling to face away from him. Severus 

“Dress like that.” 

“Goodnight.” Hermione whispered, pulling the quilt up to her chin. “Nox.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry.... I wish it was going to be all butterflies and super hot sex and all that jazz... But it just can't happen like that. Not........ yet........


	10. Ten

As he made his way down the stairs to go into his private study, Severus spotted a note on the end of the dining room table. He picked it up, reading it quickly.

_‘Severus,_

_I am in the library. I will be back in the afternoon._

_Hermione’_

Crumbling the paper, he used wandless magic to burn it, the thin paper shrivelling and disappearing in mid-air. Turning, Severus unlocked the door and stepped inside, slamming it behind him. As he continued to brew the potion he had so carefully worked on the day before, he thought about the interaction with Hermione from the previous night.

Stirring in the Essence of Wormwood, Severus mindlessly used his finger to move the small stick around in the cauldron. He wondered if he had humiliated Hermione, forcing her to turn over, and turning out the lights. In his mind, he knew that he had only done those things to prevent himself from having to look at her. Not that Severus did not want to, because he did so desperately, but to keep the distance. When he emerged from the bathroom to find her in the wig and red lingerie set, Severus found it hard to breathe. It was unexpected, Hermione’s choice of outfit. The wizard wanted to scoop her up, toss her on the bed and rip the red lace off her succulent body. And a small part of him wondered if she would have let him.

Glancing down at the potion, Severus walked across the room to lift a large jar from the top shelf. As he rested it next to the cauldron, he removed the lid and reached in to pull out a small section of Boomslang Skin. Slicing the papery material thinly, he then dropped it into the cauldron, stirring counterclockwise. The thick, lime green potion bubbled as Severus continued to stir, and then before his eyes, began to thin and turn blue. As he made his way to put the jar of Boomslang Skin back on the top shelf, Severus knelt down on the floor, removing a wooden crate full of empty vials from its hidden spot.

He carefully siphoned the potion into the 30 vials, placing them each back into the crate. Severus found his mind wandering once more to the previous night. He thought about the way she looked at him beneath her wig, her hazel eyes full of hope. Severus could not bear to look at them, knowing full and well that he was about to… well… rape her. She had wanted so badly to make it a good experience for them both, which Severus despised. He wanted Hermione to desire him, just as she had the night they met in the London rain. But he knew that it would not be possible. She was pretending; she could not desire him, a man who was cruel and heartless.

His name had been cleared by the Ministry, and Severus was awarded Order of Merlin First Class. He had lived a life away from Hogwarts for the last few years, avoiding the press and spending time traveling. Severus had enjoyed seeing parts of the world he had never had the opportunity to before, but when he received an owl from Minerva McGonagall, asking him to resume his position as Potions Master, he found familiarity calling to him. Now, everything he had once known was thrown off-kilter. His marriage to Hermione Granger being the precipitating factor in all of it.

Severus sighed and moved the crate back to its position beneath the shelves of jars and glass vials. He pocketed one vial and swiftly left the study, closing and locking the door behind it. Severus snapped his fingers, summoning a house elf to bring him lunch, as it was nearly two o’clock and he had not yet eaten. A soft sigh startled the wizard, and he whipped his head to the left to see Hermione stretched across the leather sofa. She breathed gently, a book open on her chest. His cream-colored wool blanket was draped across her lower half, Crookshanks curled at her feet. Severus studied her for a few moments, watching the orange glow of the fire dance across her freckled face.

“Here you are Master Snape,” A house elf popped into the dining room, Severus flipping around. Hermione sat up at once, the heavy book clattering to the floor. Her orange cat jumped off, lazily padding over to the curl up on the rug before the crackling fire. A plate of food appeared on the table, a goblet of pumpkin juice accompanying the spread.

“Thank you,” he uttered, rolling his eyes. Severus turned towards Hermione as he sat down, pulling the chair beneath him. “I apologize for waking you.”

“It’s alright,” she mumbled, sleepily rubbing her eyes. “I needed to wake up anyway. There’s more reading to be done.”

“What are you reading?” Severus questioned as he slipped a piece of seared fish in his mouth.

“Oh,” Hermione perked up, smiling softly. “I’m reading about Foxglove and how the color variations have different uses and efficacies,” she continued. “Of course, foxglove is typically used in Pompion Potion, but it can be used in addition to Blood-Replenishing Potion to keep the heart pumping the blood efficiently in times of systemic distress.”

Severus bit off the head of his asparagus, watching as the young witch continued on her long description of foxglove. He smiled tightly, hoping that she would stop talking. But, the witch continued.

“I’m well-versed on foxglove.”

At Severus’ abrupt words, Hermione froze, eyes wide. She realized that she had been rambling and felt her cheeks flush.

“Of course you are. But I’m not. I was simply explaining what I was reading.” Huffing, she leaned over to pick up the book from the floor, lying back down on the sofa. Hermione bent her knees, resting the book against her thighs. Her tortoise-shell glasses were perched at the end of her nose.

The black-haired wizard sighed heavily as he continued to work on the food before him. Hermione closed the book, flipping her legs to sit up on the sofa. She folded the blanket and tossed it over the back, standing.

“I’m going on a walk around the lake. I should be back in an hour.” Hermione announced at once, tugging at the bottom of the blush-colored sweater she wore. As she made her way up to the bedroom, a tapping on the window above the stairs startled her. Severus watched as Hermione moved to approach the glass, opening it to greet a black owl. She gasped softly, taking a letter from its beak, reaching up to pet it softly.

“Is it for me?” He questioned flatly, turning his attention back towards his plate.

“No. It’s for me.” She smiled, blushing slightly. Closing the window as the owl took off, Hermione hopped up the stairs to enter the bedroom. She sat in the window seat, ripping the envelope open. Viktor Krum had the beautiful silky owl, as Hermione was well aware. She hadn’t heard from him for months, as they had lost touch after the war.

_‘Mrs. Snape,_

_I heard that you were matched and married through the new law from your ministry. I am very sorry to hear this. I hope you and your husband are happy and enjoying your new life together. I have good news. I have accepted a position at Hogwarts as the Defense against the Dark Arts professor. My train arrives early tomorrow morning, in which I will be in time for breakfast. I am looking forward to seeing you once more. As you can tell, my English has improved._

_P.S. I am not very good at it still._

_Yours,_

_Viktor'_

 

Clutching the letter to her chest, Hermione soared. Viktor was going to be coming! She could hardly believe it. As she read the letter once more, Hermione finished and looked up to find Severus standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Who is it?”

“It’s from Viktor. He’s accepted the position as the new Dark Arts professor. I had heard that Professor Silking had fallen ill with Dragon Pox, but I assumed she would have recovered. Madam Pomfrey was able to cure several students last year.”

“No. Unfortunately Minerva mentioned that she might have to be moved to St. Mungo’s.” Severus sighed, uncrossing his arms. He stepped forward, moving to lean against the end of his bed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I am surprised that Minerva would hire Krum. A quidditch player? What does he know of the Dark Arts?”

Hermione furrowed her brow defensively, folding the letter up. She spoke angrily to Severus: “He knows a lot. He was trained by Karkaroff, remember? At Durmstrang, Dark Arts was a massive part of their education. Don’t be ridiculous, Severus. Viktor is one of the most qualified wizards I know.” She huffed, standing to shove the letter in the back pocket of her jeans.

“I will be interested to see how long he lasts here,” Severus spoke sourly, pushing himself from his position at the end of the bed.

“I’ll bet he lasts a long time. He’ll probably help with the Quidditch training as well. He’s a well-rounded wizard. Smart, strong, quiet, and handsome.” Hermione sneered, crossing her arms. She stepped towards Severus, puffing out her chest slightly. “He wishes us well, by the way. And, he addressed the letter to Mrs. Snape. Viktor is a proper wizard.” Turning on her heel, Hermione stormed over to the wardrobe, pulling out her coat. She slipped the black wool pea coat on, buttoning it quickly. The witch then pulled on a purple knit winter cap, tugging it down over her frizzy curls.

When Hermione returned from her walk, Severus had the house elves bring up dinner. They ate quickly and quietly, not speaking a word. The pair sat opposite each other in the living room, reading their own books. Hermione grew tired, and closed her book at once. She stood from the sofa, Crookshanks looking up at her from his spot at the opposite end.

“I’m going to take a shower. Then I’m going to bed.” She announced, clutching her book to her chest. The witch made her way up to the bedroom, marching through to the bathroom. As she closed the door, she withdrew Viktor’s letter from the pocket of her pants. Reading it once more, she blushed and folded it to place it back in her pants. Hermione undressed and showered quickly, thinking about the next day. Excitement bubbled inside her, a feeling she had not felt in a long time. When she exited the bathroom, Severus was unbuttoning his jacket, standing before the wardrobe. The witch was drying her curls, carefully squeezing them upwards towards her head.

Severus hung his jacket and neck scarf in the wardrobe, his white shirt unbuttoned. He untucked the fabric, letting it hang over his black slacks. Hermione slipped beneath the covers on the bed, opening her book once more. Over the top of the pages, she watched Severus as he removed his shoes and socks, placing the heavy boots in the wardrobe. He turned and made his way into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Hermione closed the book, rolling onto her side in bed. As she closed her eyes for a brief moment, she remembered that she was going to see Viktor the next day. Smiling warmly, the witch began to drift off to sleep.

Severus carefully slid underneath the covers on the bed, lying on his back. Hermione slept soundly next to him, legs sprawled outwards as she laid on her stomach. The wizard struggled to fall asleep, worrying about how his day would start in the morning. Would Krum be cordial? What Severus could remember of Krum was that he was quiet and kept to himself--much like Severus. As he began to drift off to sleep, the wizard found himself imagining all of the ways he could show Krum that Hermione was his wife.


	11. Eleven

Hermione stepped into the Great Hall, a smile spread across her glowing face. Severus was seated at the table at the front of the room, just to Hermione’s left. As she sat down at the small table reserved for apprentices, the young witch scanned the long table in front of her, waiting to see her friend. Viktor caught her eye, smiling tightly at her. He wore a deep teal jacket with a high collar, buttoned to his strong cleft chin. A silver sash draped across the front, a medal pinned at his breast. Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked down to nibble at the small portion of eggs and a sausage on her plate. Eating quickly, she glanced up to see Severus reading the Daily Prophet, his face concealed by the black and white moving pictures.

As the students began to scatter out of the Great Hall, Hermione stood to straighten the black sweater of her apprentice uniform. She shifted her gaze to Severus, who folded the paper over and made his way around the table. He stepped down and approached the witch, tucking the paper beneath his left arm.

“Good morning,” he said to her, at once. Hermione flipped her head towards the wizard, eyes scanning him up and down with suspicion.

“Good morning?” she questioned, pausing to wait for Viktor. He was caught in a group of students, smiling stiffly as they held out pieces of parchment for him to autograph.

“We have a busy day today. The sixth years are brewing the Draught of the Living Dead. I will have you help me oversee them. There are a large group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws.” Severus followed the witch’s gaze, directed towards the Bulgarian wizard.

“Certainly. I’ll see you there,” she mumbled, smoothing down her hair. As Severus began to walk away, he caught sight of Viktor Krum approaching his wife with a rushed speed. His thick eyebrows hugged his eyes closely, his hair shaved nearly to the scalp. Hermione glowed, her lips spreading to show a toothy grin, Krum bowing before her. She giggled as he took her hand, bringing it up to kiss it gently.

“It is wonderful to see you, Hermione,” Krum exclaimed, straightening. “This must be your husband.” The Bulgarian wizard turned his attention towards Severus, and the older wizard tilted his head in superiority.

“Oh, yes! This is Severus Snape. Severus, this is Viktor Krum.”

Severus begrudgingly extended his hand, watching his wife radiate with excitement. Krum took it and shook firmly, their narrowed eyes meeting for a brief moment.

“Professor. Thank you for having me here in this castle once more. It is an honor.”

“Thank you for filling such an… important position.” Severus grinned cheekily, nodding his head at once. “I must apologize. We must go to our class,” he interjected as he shifted towards Hermione. Viktor nodded in understanding, looking to Hermione once more. Severus’ hand rested against the small of her back, and Hermione stiffened.

“We must find each other later. Good day.” Krum bowed once more, turning to fly out of the Great Hall, knee-high boots clomping against the stone floor.

“We’ll be late.” Severus uttered, dropping his hand from her back, Hermione scowling at him.

“Don’t touch me.” She spat, her lips turned downward in annoyance. The witch stormed out of the room, hurrying through the castle to the Potions classroom. Severus and his billowing teaching robes flew through the heavy door, Hermione seated on a stool to the right of the chalkboard.

“Draught of the Living Dead. Can anyone tell me how to extract the juice from the Sopophorous Bean?” In front of the pair the class was silent, eyes wide. Hermione fidgeted in her seat slightly, resisting the urge to raise her hand. Severus turned towards the young woman and raised his eyebrows. “Mrs. Snape… Perhaps you’d like to tell us?”

Grimacing at the sound of her new name, Hermione nodded and began to give the answer: “Rather than attempting to slice the Sopophorous bean, one should crush the bean and extract the juice. In fact, I believe it was your own revision to the potion instructions, Professor.”

She was right, Severus thought. He felt one corner of his mouth curl up into a smile. Hermione crossed her legs and Severus let his eyes wander over her nylon-clad skin. His face turned to scowl when he saw the black high-heeled pumps on her feet. The witch smiled warmly in his direction, and Severus floated to the center of the room, his voice booming as he explained the instructions. A few moments later, the students scurried to their positions with their cauldrons, each furiously working to prepare the potion.

Severus shifted so that he caught Hermione with his shoulder, turning his head to the left to whisper pointedly in her ear. “I hope Krum likes those shoes, because if I catch you wearing them again, I will take them off your feet and burn them.”

Hermione whipped her head up to meet Severus’ burning gaze and moved to grab his forearm roughly. Her fingers dug into his skin and he grimaced, the witch responding: “I will wear and do as I please. And as a matter of fact, Viktor loved them.” Releasing the man, she hurried over to look into the cauldron of a Ravenclaw, assessing their potions.

After class, Hermione left to go eat lunch in the Great Hall, and Severus chose to stay in his office, reading through The Daily Prophet. Krum’s smug face was plastered throughout the center, a massive article written about his accomplishments over the last few years after the Triwizard Tournament. Severus tossed the paper into the crackling fire behind him, turning his chair back around to focus his attention on next week’s assignments for the sixth years. Hermione would be returning any moment to continue her afternoon with him.

A few hours later, after he had his lesson plans written down, Severus reclined in his desk chair, closing his eyes for a few brief moments. His wife had not yet returned and he found himself growing angry, and slightly concerned. Was Krum involved in this? The wizard clenched his jaw, tightening his hands into fists.

Severus opened the door to his office, stepping into the classroom. As he made his way through the rows of desks, he froze, a sound stopping him. Hermione was cleaning the laboratory stations, humming to herself. Her hair was pinned back, small ringlets framing her face. There was a small tear in her tights, leading up to the back of her thigh, disappearing beneath the black pleated skirt. The wizard raised an eyebrow, watching her pad through the room, her high-heeled shoes resting on a stone at the edge of the area.

“I just assumed you had decided to forgo your apprenticeship and spend the afternoon with your long-lost friend.” He uttered smugly, making his way across the open lecture area to stand against a cabinet filled with the classroom’s potions stores.

“Don’t be an ass. I’ve been in here cleaning since I returned from lunch. Your door was closed, so I assumed you didn’t want to be disturbed.” She was on her hands and knees, straightening a row of jars containing wheat head. “If you’re jealous of Viktor, you shouldn’t be.”

“I’m not jealous,” Severus argued, furrowing his brow in offense. “Krum is not qualified to be an educator of the Dark Arts.”

“And you’re better qualified?” The witch huffed, rolling her eyes. She grabbed ahold of the nearest table to pull herself up to stand. “You could have taken his job if you wanted to. Honestly, Severus. You’re ridiculous.”

“He’s young and immature. Krum knows nothing of teaching, nor does he have any experience in combating dark magic.” Severus said gruffly, watching Hermione reach over to grab the high-heeled shoes with her index and middle finger.

“Shouldn’t he start somewhere? What a better place to learn than Hogwarts, don’t you think? Now I’m going to our chambers if you’d like to walk with me… Or, if you want to stay and pout, be my guest.” Hermione announced annoyingly, making her way to the classroom door. Severus exhaled and followed her, scowling along the way.

As they traveled down the hallway to their chambers, he could think of nothing more than how to respond to the witch. He wanted to hit her where it hurt, show her that Krum was no match for him. To tell Hermione that he didn’t care about her, but he did care that Krum could ruin their reputation. But, the words could not come. Severus could not find a way to say how he felt,  
without giving everything away.

 

That night, the couple ate dinner in the Great Hall, Hermione sitting at her usual place at the apprentice’s table. As she took small sips of her butternut squash soup, the witch glanced over towards Severus, catching him sulking as he ate his dinner. The witch relished in the thought of causing him to be jealous, hoping to prompt the wizard to make an effort in being a proper husband. Professor McGonagall stood at once from her center position at the long table, raising her hands to quiet the hall.

“As some of you may have heard, Professor Silking has fallen ill with the Dragon Pox. Rest assured that she is in good hands at St. Mungo’s. This morning, our newest guest arrived to the castle. Some of you may have already met him. Viktor Krum will be taking on the role of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Let us all wish him a warm welcome!” The witch smiled warmly, her cheeks growing rosy beneath her half-rimmed glasses. The Great Hall erupted in cheers and applause, Viktor standing stoically behind the table, his hands folded at his waist.

“Professor Krum will also be lending a helping hand to Madam Hooch in teaching and aiding any Quidditch team who requests. I advise you to _not_ abuse this privilege. Now, off to bed with you all!” The headmistress nodded her head firmly and clasped her hands together to step back from the table. Hermione’s heart soared as Viktor’s eyes met hers, one corner of her lips curling. As she began to make her way over to him, Professor McGonagall stopped her.

“Oh dear, I’m glad I’ve found you. Might I have a word with you and Severus in my office?” She requested, tilting her head, the pointed hat upon her head shifting.

“Um, yes.” Hermione mumbled, fidgeting with one of her frizzy curls, looking over the headmistress’ shoulder to find Viktor in the crowd.

“Ah, Severus! Perfect timing. I was just asking Hermione if you both could join me in my office. I have a request for you both.” Hermione turned to her left to find Severus hovering behind her, looking bemused at the interaction before him. The elder witch led the pair out of the Great Hall and down the corridor to stop before the statue leading to her office. Hermione stood uncomfortably next to Severus in the office as they awaited Professor McGonagall’s request.

“It is a wonderful tradition at Hogwarts to have a lesson on dueling, as it is important education for the students to learn and practice offensive and defensive spells. Severus, you have offered your services in the past, and I would ask that you do so once more. Hermione, you are an excellent witch, and I would like for you to help with this lesson.” Minerva smiled at the pair over her glasses, head tilted downwards.

“Hermione is not a Charms or Spells apprentice. She is a Potions apprentice, and I suggest she remain as that.”

Hermione flipped her head up at the dark-haired wizard and opened her mouth to argue: “If the Headmistress would like me to do so, I would love to participate in the dueling lesson. I am well-educated and experienced with hexes and counter-hexes.”

“There you have it, Severus. It would be a fun adventure for you two, as husband and wife.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I’ve also invited Professor Krum to join in. I believe you all could take turns, switching out partners.”

“We all remember how it went the last time a celebrity participated in a dueling lesson, Minerva.” Severus stated smugly.

“It all sounds wonderful. Thank you Professor.” Hermione interjected, before Severus could add anything further. McGonagall said goodbye and sent the couple on their way, Hermione rolling her eyes as Severus moved in front of her to race down the stairs. She noticed how he seemed to float, his teaching robes flying behind him. As she exited the spiral staircase, Hermione was surprised to see Viktor waiting for her, leaning against the stone wall.

“Did you agree?” He asked with excitement, grinning.

“Of course we did. Severus didn’t want to. But that’s only because he’s a grumpy old man,” she rolled her eyes, watching her husband continue down the hall towards their chambers. “Don’t worry about him. I think the dueling lesson is a great idea. I’ve not had the opportunity to practice my offensive and defensive spells in a long time.”

“I was the champion at Durmstrang, all eight years.” Viktor boasted.

“Of course you were. How have you been? I feel like it’s been ages.”

“Busy. Quidditch has occupied most of my time. But I spent the last year learning more about the Dark Arts in Hong Kong.” He began to walk, hands tucked behind his back. Hermione accompanied him, matching her pace with his.

“Hong Kong! I’ve heard the Chinese have a deeper understanding of the Dark Arts than the rest of the world.”

“It is true. The shaman I studied under was brilliant, and had a long history of the Dark Arts. He was not a follower, but used his ancestry to form a strong education and understanding,” Viktor began, continuing to talk about the culture of Hong Kong. Hermione found herself immersed in conversation, enthralled with stories from the East. “But enough about me. How about you? So much has happened since we last saw each other.” Viktor finished, turning towards Hermione.

“After the war, I finished my schooling here, and then went on to study in Potions. And of course, I am recently married.” Hermione grinned stiffly, putting on a good face for Viktor. “And I’m studying with Severus. He’s one of the best Potions Masters I’ve ever seen.”

“Professor Snape is a brilliant wizard. Many congratulations to you again on your marriage. I can see that it is not exactly the match you were hoping for…” Viktor started, moving to sit on a stone bench in the corridor. The sun had begun to set behind them, warm light filling the narrow room. “It was Ron Weasley, wasn’t it? The one you cared for. That died in the war.”

Hermione nodded slowly, biting the inside of her lip. The mention of Ron was still raw to her, a sore spot that never seemed to heal. “Yes. I cared deeply for Ronald. But now, this is my life, and there’s no use in being sad about it.” Lifting her chin, she saw Viktor grin at her.

“You always surprised me, Hermione. Not like any of the other girls I knew.”

The witch blushed, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She realized how long she’d been talking with Viktor, and stood. “I’m sorry, but I should get going. Severus is expecting me.”

“He waits for you, does he? What a lucky girl you are, to have such a doting husband.” Viktor joked, standing over the witch. He bowed slightly and leaned in towards Hermione. She blushed at once, the feeling of his lips brushing against her cheek. “Goodnight, Hermione.” He stepped backwards, and flipped around to walk the opposite direction.

Grinning from ear to ear, Hermione walked into the living room of her chambers, reaching up to her neck to begin to undo her tie. Severus was not seated in his chair by the fire, and the witch assumed he was in his private study. Making her way across the room, Hermione began her ascent to the bedroom. As she undressed, pulling on a pair of black pajama pants and an oversized muggle shirt, she blushed. The image of Viktor kissing her cheek brought a long-forgotten warm feeling to her abdomen.

“What did Krum have to say?” Severus asked at once, stepping into the bedroom. Crookshanks padded behind him, hopping up on the end of the bed. Hermione pulled her hair behind her head, sitting on top of the quilt on the bed.

“Not much,” she mumbled, braiding her hair. “Mostly about his apprenticeship with a shaman in Hong Kong.”

“Hong Kong? That place is one of the darkest in all of the magical world.” Severus stated, undressing. He carefully hung his jacket in the wardrobe, pulling his white dress shirt from his pants.

“That’s what I thought… I was impressed, to be honest.”

“I say this not only as your husband, but as your master,” Severus started, unbuttoning the shirt. Hermione’s eyes wandered across his chest, adorned with graying chest hair. He slipped it off, hanging it up next to the jacket. The witch looked down to Crookshanks, blushing. “Be careful. We have all changed since the war. Krum included. He may not be who he once was.”

As Severus entered the bathroom, the sound of the shower running echoing into the bedroom, Hermione settled into bed. As she rolled onto her side, she carefully considered her husband’s words. Perhaps he was right? Viktor could be a completely different man. Hermione dismissed this thought, rolling her eyes. Severus was jealous. He was jealous! Why else would he tell her to be careful? She knew Viktor better than her own husband.

Hermione rolled onto her back, heads above her head. She stared at the ceiling, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. Severus could have been much more cruel, even spiteful. Why wasn’t he?


	12. Twelve

The next few days passed swiftly, each night, Hermione and Viktor meeting after dinner to catch up. Friday arrived soon enough, Hermione bubbling with excitement. The second levels had a free period in the afternoon, in which the dueling lesson would take place. After finishing lunch, Hermione waited to meet Viktor outside of the Great Hall, as Severus prepared the dueling platform.

The handsome Bulgarian rounded the corner from the courtyard, smiling as he caught sight of Hermione. She wore a pair of tight pants, knee-high boots, a shirt and vest. The witch knew it was wise to wear something she could move in.

“Is there some place we could talk?” Viktor asked in a hushed voice, a small gathering of female students behind him. Hermione nodded and gave a scowl towards the girls. Viktor took her by the elbow and led her to a small alcove outside of the Great Hall. “I’ve never felt like this before.” He uttered breathlessly.

Hermione’s face fell, and she folded her eyebrows in confusion.

“I love you, Hermione.”

“What?” She questioned, bewildered. “We’ve just met again after years apart. You can’t possibly say such a thing.” Her heart fluttered in her chest, cheeks red.

“I know it because I’ve never stopped feeling it.”

“Viktor, stop! You know I’m married.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t change things… You could live your life the way you please, not according to some stupid law. Be happy, take control of your life! He controls you, Hermione.” He whispered in her ear, tucking a strand of hair behind it with attention. Hermione shuddered. She shook her head, turning to walk away, but Viktor caught her arm just above the elbow. He spun her around, the witch landing at his chest. Wrapping his arms around her small frame, she fought, reaching for her wand. Wiggling her arm out, she flipped her wand to jab it beneath his chin.

“Do not touch me again. Do you understand?” Hermione questioned shortly, her eyes narrowed up at Viktor.

“I understand you well, Mrs. Snape.”

Releasing her, Viktor straightened his emerald jacket, buttoned high at the neck. Tugging on the sleeves, he stood erect, smiling at the witch as though nothing had happened between them.

“We should begin our dueling lessons now,” Severus announced, his low voice booming through the doorway of the Great Hall. Hermione’s eyes widened and she walked quickly into the room, Viktor following behind her. As she concealed her wand, shoving it down in the pocket of her pants, Severus caught a glimpse of the witch and raised an eyebrow at her. “Ah. Good. Mrs. Snape has arrive to demonstrate her dueling skills.”

“Perhaps Professor Krum and I could duel first?” She smiled smugly, first at Severus, then across the room towards Viktor. Hermione reached behind her head to gather her hair into a ponytail. She watched Viktor, as he licked his lower lip, withdrawing his wand from the pocket of his black pants. His knee-high boots stomped heavily on the stone, a group of students clearing a path for him. Viktor made his way up onto the long, narrow dueling platform, standing broadly.

The witch withdrew her wand from the pocket of her slim-fitting khaki pants, stepping up onto the opposite end of the platform. As she spread her legs to stand shoulder-width apart, she began to unbutton and roll the sleeves of her white shirt up to her elbows. The second-year students looked up at the witch and wizard, staring at each other with intensity.

Hermione began to make her way to the center of the platform, her brown leather boots creaking with every step. She flipped a few lost ringlets out her face, wand at her side. Viktor approached, staring at the witch. They met in the center, eyes locked. Hermione heard whispering and looked down to her right, a group of female students giggling and pointing up towards Viktor. She looked over her shoulder, Severus in the corner of the Great Hall, arms crossed. He glared at her, a hint of concern resting in his face.

Turning back to face Viktor, Hermione flicked up her wand to align with her nose, her opponent doing the same. She jutted out her jaw, snapping her wand arm back down at her side, simultaneously with Viktor. They bowed towards each other and both turned to make their way to the opposite ends of the platform. Hermione inhaled sharply, feeling her palms grow sweaty. The students hushed whispers dissipated, the herd moving in closer.

Hermione moved her right leg out, bending it to extend her right hand out towards Viktor, left arm bent upwards behind her head. She watched carefully as her opponent did the same, his wand pointed directly at her.

“ _Flipendo!_ ” She shouted, watching as Viktor flew up in the air, flipping backwards. He landed flat on his back, a heavy thud. The students gasped, one girl screaming. Carefully sitting upwards, Viktor propelled himself up and forward, lashing back towards Hermione.

“ _Locomotor mortis_!” Viktor exclaimed, a purple light racing towards Hermione.

“ _Protego!_ ” She blocked the spell, dragging her wand across her waist to direct the spell towards the wall. A block of stone from the wall exploded, pieces of rock flying off and shooting across the floor.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Viktor shouted, hurrying to move towards Hermione. She felt herself shoot backwards, unable to block the spell in time. Hitting the platform on her left side, she rolled over, off the edge and onto the cold, hard floor. Students scattered, and she pointed her wand up at Viktor, now just a few feet away.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” She exclaimed, watching as Viktor blocked it. “ _Expulso!_ ”

The Bulgarian wizard was propelled backwards, off the platform, crashing into the tables and benches against the opposite wall.

“We have demonstrated quite enough offensive and defensive spells,” Severus began to interject, but Hermione jumped onto the platform, hurtling through a group of students. They scurried out of the way, bumping into each other.

The witch pointed her wand at Viktor once more, approaching him with speed after launching herself off the platform. As she opened her mouth to hex him, he sat up angrily from the mess of broken wood. He dusted off his jacket, whipping his wand out towards Hermione, angrily yelling: “ _Confrigo!_ ”

The platform behind them exploded, sending pieces of wood and cloth into the air. Hermione used a freezing charm to prevent it from harming any students, her back turned.

“I said stop!” Severus boomed, Hermione whipping her head around. She pointed her wand at him, threateningly. He stiffened and shook his head, jaw thrust outwards in anger.

Viktor raced towards the witch, flipping back around to face him. She held out her wand, and they began to duel once more. Viktor lashed out, grunting and hurtling a deep blue spark towards Hermione. She blocked it, yellow flames shooting towards Viktor. A chunk of stone from the gargoyle statue exploded, heavy pieces blasted over the pair. They had moved out into the entry before the Great Hall, hexes and counter-hexes being thrown at each other. The students were pressed against each other in the doorway of the Great Hall, eyes wide and mouths open. Severus watched with wide eyes at the back of the crowd, his wand at the ready. Viktor held up his wand to block the spell, shooting it back towards Hermione.

As she ducked out of its line, the witch fell over broken stone, the edge of her face bouncing against the floor. Hermione flipped around, wincing as she glanced down to see her foot twisted. The edge of her face throbbed, and her thoughts cleared from the pain to look around for her wand. From her position on the floor, her back flat, Hermione could see her wand several feet away, resting against a piece of the gargoyle statue. Viktor raced towards her, his eyes wild with fury. She was propped up on her elbows, moving to attempt to stand. Her hair had fallen out of its ponytail, her frizzy curls draped over her face. As Viktor stood over her, she watched as he pointed his wand at her, shouting: “ _Incarcerous!_ ”

Ropes wound tightly around the witch, pulling tighter and tighter. One was knotted at her neck, Hermione clawing to break it. “Stop!” She tired to scream, but the sound was stamped out by the rope. Viktor pointed his wand between her eyebrows, nostrils flaring. The witch felt the rope at her neck sinch, as if it were going to crush her. Viktor smiled for a brief second, and then his face went stiff.

“ _Petrificus totalus!_ ” Severus shouted, Viktor straightening like a board, falling backwards onto the ground. The students all gasped, watching as Severus performed a counter-curse to release the ropes on Hermione. The wizard hurried over and fell to his knees before the witch. She reached up, clinging to his arm, and pulled herself to sit up. “Class dismissed!” Severus turned back towards the students, yelling at them. They scattered, hurrying out of the Great Hall.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Hermione whispered, tears in her eyes.

“Are you injured?” Severus leaned backwards, still on one knee, extending his arms to examine Hermione.

“I’m fine. Just my ankle, I think.” She raised her shaking hand to feel her lip, blood staining her fingertips as she examined them. Hermione reached over to pick up her wand from the floor and pointed it at her swollen ankle. “ _Episkey._ ” Her leg straightened, the throbbing pain subsiding.

Severus reversed his petrifying spell on Viktor, and turned back to help his wife up. As the wizard waved his wand over the Great Hall, the broken pieces of stone floated back to their original resting place, and damaged furniture was repaired. Hermione folded her hands at her waist, her eyes turned down towards the floor. Shame filled her, her cheeks red.

“If you dare challenge my wife like that again, you will cease to perform magic.” Severus spat, reaching to grab the collar of Viktor’s jacket. Viktor held his hands up in defense, and watched as Severus released him with a thrust. Severus pivoted, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket.

 

Hermione’s husband took off, moving quickly through the halls of the castle. Hermione followed, running after him. As they traveled down the spiral staircase, entering the long narrow hall, they stopped before the emblem on the floor. Hermione stood winded, waiting for Severus to open the door. As he entered the room, he ripped off his teaching robes, flinging them over the sofa. Hermione hesitantly stepped inside, reaching up to rub her sore neck.

“Would you care to explain what the fuck just went on?” Severus spun around, his black hair flying.

Hermione widened her eyes, hand falling to her side. She argued, at once. “It was nothing!”

“That’s not what anyone in the room would believe. Even Krum.”

“It just went a bit too far. We got a little… heated.” Hermione said hesitantly.

“Having a lovers’ quarrel, were you?” Severus spat, his arms thrust outwards. Hermione made her way into the living room, just a few feet away from her husband.

“Oh, stop it!” She screamed at him, her hair flying wildly in the air. The witch felt herself grow hot, anger burning in her core. “We are not lovers, and we were not having a quarrel. Just a simple duel.”

“My wife! Can’t even properly defend herself in a duel.” Severus huffed, tossing his head back with a sneer.

“I didn’t realize it would go that far.” Hermione uttered soberly, eyes on Severus.

“How far did you want it to go?” Severus asked, his voice falling, his black eyes dimming.

“I-I-I don’t know,” the witch stuttered, but continued. “I just wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to show him… Show him what the wife of Snape could do.”

“Don’t associate yourself with me right now. You don’t deserve to! You lost that privilege the moment you stepped foot on the dueling platform with him.”

Hermione’s shoulders fell and she watched Severus’ chest rise and fall with every heated breath he took.

“I refused him,” she whispered.

“You what?” The wizard had his hand at his chin, massing his jaw. He turned his head towards her, eyebrows crinkled in confusion.

“I refused him. Just before the duel… He tried to kiss me. He-he told me he loved me. And I threatened him, and-and I made him angry...” Hermione explained, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Maybe in another life, I would have married Viktor. But not this one. I am your wife, and I wanted to show him that. But all I did was make a bloody fool of us all!” She sobbed, holding her hand up like a visor over her forehead. Warm, wet tears streamed down her face, shame spread across her.

The witch took a few ragged breaths, and wiped the tears across her cheek, finally raising her head to look at her husband. Severus stood hunched over the sofa, his hands gripping the back as he faced the fire.

“I could have killed him,” he whispered, eyes reflecting the crackling flames.

“I wanted to,” she replied. For a few moments, the witch studied Severus’ strong profile. His strong nose, which so prominently defined his features, cast a shadow to the right half of his face. His shoulder-length black hair was messy and falling down in his face, over one of his dark brown eyes. Hermione imagined his wide, thin lips pressing against hers. At this thought, she turned away.

Silently, she walked around him. Hermione climbed up the stairs to the bedroom, moving to the wardrobe. As she pulled off the leather boots, she thought about the kiss. What it would be like, how he would taste… As she slipped off her shoes and pants, the witch closed her eyes for a brief second. Hermione unzipped her vest and unbuttoned her shirt, hanging them up in the wardrobe before she sat down on the floor before trunk at the end of the bed. The stone floor was frigid against her body, only covered in a pair of simple knickers and pale pink bralette. Folding herself over her knees, Hermione let her head fall into her hands. Tears welled in her eyes once more, the sinking feeling that she’d ruined both of her relationships weighing heavily on her.

She felt the familiar salty taste on her lips, and lifted her head to wipe the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Blood stained the skin, her busted lip still oozing. A dark shadow appeared in the doorway, Hermione looking up only to feel her lips quiver. Embarrassment settled in her and she turned away, realizing she was wearing very little in front of him. Severus’ dark shadow covered her as he knelt down on the floor beside Hermione.

“You should clean up and go to dinner.” Severus stated, now sitting beside the witch, his right knee bent to rest his arm on it.

“I’m not hungry,” she huffed, pulling her knees in tighter towards her chest. “You go without me.”

“That’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think? If you don’t go, they’ll assume… the worst.” Severus uttered, sighing.

“I don’t give a fuck what they assume!” Hermione roared, shoving off the floor to stand. “I don’t want to go to dinner. All I want to do is go to bed.” As she glanced towards the wall, she caught sight of the calendar, realizing what day it was. “Oh no.” Tears welled in her eyes once more, and she blinked them away. Severus’ dark form was blurred in her vision, but she could see he was now standing as well.

“We have one more day,” he whispered, approaching her cautiously.

“It doesn’t matter when it is, it only matters that neither of us want to.” Groaning, the witch balled her hands into fists and threw her hands angrily down at her side. “I know you don’t want me… It’s--I mean, look at me.” Hermione huffed, holding out her hand, palm up as if she were giving up.

“I am.” Severus whispered, extending his arm to place his palm on her cheek. She shook slightly beneath his touch, closing her eyes. His thumb traced along the height of her cheek bones, slipping to rest just before her ear, his remaining fingers wrapping around her neck. He squeezed gently, bending her back. Hermione let out a small gasp and her eyes fluttered open.

“Stop.” She pushed his arm away, stepping backwards.

Severus retracted his hand, eyebrows bent with hurt. His mouth hung open slightly. The witch licked her lips, sucking in the bottom lip. Blood stained her teeth as Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

“Don’t do something unless you mean it. I can’t stand to be hurt again,” she whispered.

“I know.” Severus replied, moving to pull Hermione into his chest. His arms wrapped around her small frame, shuddering with sobs. The touch felt foreign to him, his chest tightening. Her warmth radiated in his center, Severus tightening his arms to reign her in further.


	13. Thirteen

“We should go to dinner,” Hermione mumbled as she slipped out of Severus’ embrace. “They’ll be suspicious if-- _you’re bleeding_!” She exclaimed, stepping backwards slightly. Severus lifted two elongated fingers to his nose, pulling them back to examine them.

He left the room swiftly, traveling down the stairs and rushing into his private study. As the door slammed behind him, Hermione ran down after him, slapping her palms against the wood.

“Severus! What’s going on? Open this door!” She shouted, stepping backwards. Minutes passed, the witch pacing in front, shivering in her bra and knickers. Hermione heard rustling and glass breaking. Straightening, the witch extended her arm to point her wand at the lock. “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to blast it open!”

The door opened before her, sucking air into the dark space. Severus stepped out, holding a small rag to his nose. “Is that _really_ necessary?” Rolling his eyes, he pushed past the witch, moving to sit in his chair by the fire.

“I was worried! You just stormed off with no explanation. I-I didn’t know if you were hurt.” As she came down from her anger, Hermione’s voice fell soft into a whisper. Severus tossed the bloodied rag into the fire beside him, running his fingers over his eyebrow as he leaned against his right arm.

“Stop your girlish screaming. As you can see, I’m fine.” Inhaling sharply, Severus turned his attention to the flames crackling next to him. He could hear Hermione begin to make her way awkwardly back into the bedroom.

“I apologize for the concern.” she spat, slamming the door behind her, her curls flying in the air. Severus let out a sigh of relief, but groaned, gripping his abdomen. It was a close call, he knew. If only he’d been focused, he would have remembered to take the stupid bloody potion. But, his selfish wife had stolen his attention and forced him to forget all about it.

Hermione emerged from the bedroom dressed in a pair of denim pants, her brown leather boots and a plum turtleneck. She hopped down the stairs, walking past the leather sofa towards the door. Severus craned his neck to the left, furrowing his brow. “Where are you going?”

“Dinner, _remember_? Can’t forget to put on a good face.” The witch pulled the door behind her, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts.

He tried to remind himself that she was still a girl--a girl that did not want to be married to him. She didn’t want to be married at all, but especially not to Severus and his aging form. The wizard cleared his throat, resting his chin on his fist. Hermione had tried to protect him in protecting herself against Viktor, he thought. But, she had given the students a glimpse of the problems they were enduring as a married couple. He was expecting an angry summons to Minerva’s office any moment. At this thought, Severus stood and began to pace about the living room.

Crookshanks lifted his head, watching the wizard with suspicion. After a few moments, the cat lowered his head and curled up to go back to sleep. Severus gripped the mantle, closing his eyes to relax. His head throbbed and he bent his right arm to rub his temples with this thumb and index finger. Beneath him, the fire crackled, a log shifting. As Severus pushed away from the fireplace, he slipped off his teaching robe and removed the tie at his neck.

Hermione entered, her frizzy mass of hair flying behind her with the closing of the door. Her husband turned to scan her, his eyes traveling from her feet to the top of her head. The witch froze just behind the sofa, staring directly at him.

“If we must, let’s get it over with.”

Severus started at her, bemused. The witch stormed through the living room, up the stairs, and disappeared into the bedroom. His heart quickened with the realization of what she was referring to. Consummation, once again. Severus cautiously began to make his way towards the bedroom. What would the witch have in store for him this time? Swallowing quickly, he stepped up onto the landing before their bedroom, pausing for a brief moment.

As he stood in the doorway, Severus watched the woman in front of him. She stood, her arm hooked around one of the posters of the bed. His eyes fell over her, the witch wearing a pair thin black knickers and a small triangular bralette, standing barefoot on the cold stone floor.

“We did it your way last time. Now, it’s my turn. Marriage is about compromise, isn’t it?” Hermione asked, dropping her arm to her side, stepping towards Severus.

“No.” He stated, backing away slightly.

“No?” She stopped, a few inches before him. Her eyes were wide with confusion.

“Marriage is about more than compromise,” he whispered, lifting his head slightly. Hermione inched forward, reaching her hands up to rest on his shoulders. Severus’ eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, his jaw clenching. He opened his eyes, the witch sliding her hands towards his neck. Her fingers moving to undo the buttons on his jacket. As it popped open, the corners of her lips curled. “ _I can’t_.” Severus uttered, turning quickly to leave the bedroom. He hurried down the steps, leaving Hermione hovering in the doorway.

The wizard threw himself into the black velvet chair by the fire, his head propped against his hand. Why did did he do this? Severus knew what he wanted, but could not. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the girl. The feeling between his legs roared inside him, his member throbbing. The wizard glanced up, catching sight of Hermione gripping the door frame, face contorted with sadness. He crossed his legs casually, turning his attention towards the fire.

Hermione felt numb, pulling the quilt and sheet back to crawl into the bed. She had attempted twice, but lost both times. At least the first time Severus had completed his duty. This time, he left her cold and ashamed. Hermione pulled the quilt up over her shoulder, lying on her side towards the bathroom. She tossed and turned, trying to relax and fall asleep. The clock on the wall across the room ticked, hours floating by. 10, 11, 12… Severus had not come to bed, the other half cold except for the small spot where Crookshanks laid. Hermione had curled her legs up towards her chest, her mind wandering. Determination filled her, a plan forming. Hermione would find out what he wanted, and give it to him. She wanted him to enjoy sleeping beside her, look forward to sharing her company. She wanted to make him want to kiss her, touch her. Her body a shrine, Severus bowing to her. Finally, she felt her eyes grow heavy, and closed them.

Warmth woke her, Severus slipping into bed beside her. She rolled over, sleep in her eyes. Hermione watched as he reached out and placed his hand on her cheek, his touching sending chills down her spine.

“We will sort it all out one of these days,” he whispered, moving his hand to fall over her shoulder and rest on her lower back. Severus pulled her close to him, her slim body fitting in the curve of his.

Hermione and Severus walked a few lengths behind a large group of students as they journeyed from the castle into Hogsmeade. The first Saturday in which the students were allowed to travel down to the village, and the couple had been assigned to accompany them. Severus adjusted the robes around him, pulling them tighter over his chest. The fall wind had shifted, and blew chilly mist at the large group. Hermione shivered beneath her wool pea coat, careful not to step in a large muddy puddle.

The students in front of Severus were bustling with excitement, discussing the new pastries at Madam Puddifoot’s and making lists of the ridiculous items at Zonko’s Joke Shop. Hermione smiled gently, remembering her years spent with Harry and Ron in the village, drinking Butterbeer and enjoying their Saturdays. A pang of sorrow struck the witch as she thought about Ron, knowing that he would never accompany her to Hogsmeade again.

“Hurry up,” Severus ordered, looking behind at Hermione, a few lengths between them. The witch picked up the pace, hurrying to walk by Severus’ side. Her hand brushed his, her warm skin against his; Hermione nervously shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. Cheeks flushing, the witch glanced up shyly to see if her husband noticed the touch, but she saw that he was looking forward with a scowl.

“Is it alright if I go to Scrivenshaft’s?” Hermione asked, watching the students ahead of her split into smaller groups and go about their way into the village. Severus stopped on the cobble street, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Fine. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks at 11.”

Hermione nodded and turned right to make her way down towards the end of the street. She passed a few Slytherins who were outside of Madam Puddifoot’s, watching a couple seated against the pastel pink wall, snogging. Rolling her eyes, she continued on, hurrying across the street to enter Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. Coming to abrupt stop at the door, Hermione frowned to see a poorly written paper hanging upon the window. The shop was closed for the day due to unforeseen circumstances. With sadness, the witch turned around and made her way back down the cobble street of Hogsmeade.

Upon entering the Three Broomsticks, Hermione glanced around, looking for her husband. Severus sat at a booth in the back of the pub, arms resting on the table. A short glass of firewhiskey was placed in front of him by Rosmerta. Hermione made her way towards him, and the bar keeper moved out of the way to reveal a figure across from Severus. Hermione darted to stand behind a wood column, eyes on the interaction. Her heart raced, jealousy rising like bile in her throat. Peeking around the column, a breath of relief slipped from between Hermione’s lips as she realized who was sitting across from her husband.

Severus leaned towards Professor McGonagall, his black hair draping over his face like dark curtains. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione attempted to read their lips but could not. Stepping forward, she hurried and hid behind the next column. Hermione began to be able to discern a few bits of their conversation, her head peering over the edge of the wood.

“Time is running out, Severus.” McGonagall stated, concern in her voice.

“I’m well aware. But... I have not yet found the right time.” His voice was thick and low, and Hermione could sense a twinge of fear in his words.

“The right time will never come! You will never have the perfect opportunity,” Minerva huffed, picking up her glass to sip daintily. “We agreed upon this. It must be done... Tell her, Severus. Arrangements have already been made for your departure.”

“I have concerns…. And doubts… What, with her and her relationship with Krum.”

“Which is why is needs to be now. Before things continue.” Minerva stated firmly, then letting out a soft sigh.

“Very well,” Severus whispered, eyes falling down to hover on his drink. He tapped his fingers on the sides of the glass. Minerva McGonagall slid out of the booth, drawing her velvet plum robes around her, walking to leave the pub. Hermione flipped around, her back flat against the column. Tears sprung in her eyes, feeling betrayed. Swallowing her sadness, she flipped back around and made her way to the booth where Severus sat.

“Sorry I was late. There was quite the line. All the Ravenclaws were wanting new quills,” she grinned softly, raising a finger to get Madam Rosmerta’s attention.

“Were they all behaving?”

“Oh, of course. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.” Hermione nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “A butterbeer, please.” Madam Rosmerta grinned and turned to go fetch Hermione’s drink.

Severus’ eyes wandered and never seemed to find her eyes.

“Is everything alright?” She asked. Madam Rosmerta returned, sliding the mug of butterbeer across the table to stop before Hermione.

“Why do ask?” Severus looked up, his black eyes unfeeling.

“I saw the headmistress leave, and I wondered… um… if-if she was talking to you about anything important?”

“It’s none of your business.” He said tersely, finishing his drink and slamming the glass on the table. Hermione jumped, her eyes wide. Directing her attention to a small spot on the wood floor to her left, she sucked in her bottom lip to bite on it.

“I was just trying to make sure you were alright. No need to bite my head off,” she rolled her eyes at the wizard, taking a sip of her butterbeer. Reaching into her pocket, Hermione pulled out a few coins and set them on the table. “It’s on me. I’m going to wait outside and watch the students.”

Hermione tightened the belt on her peacoat, cinching it at her waist. She flipped up the collar, adjusting the thick red scarf around her neck. Leaning against the wall outside of the Three Broomsticks, the witch couldn’t help but think about the conversation she overheard inside. What did Minerva mean by Severus’ departure? Hermione wondered if he was going to leave her, doubt creeping its way inside her head. It wasn’t possible--he couldn’t leave her! And he wouldn’t... But, Hermione knew that in the week they’d been married, she had not been the best wife. Severus even said he had doubts… Including Hermione’s faithfulness, mentioning Viktor. His name made her stomach churn, and the witch crossed her arms, glancing at the students leaving Honeydukes holding large lollipops and cotton candy.

“You’ll freeze to death if you stand out here.” Hermione lifted her head to see Viktor Krum smirking, a book tucked beneath his arm. He wore a scarlet wool coat, buttoned high to the neck, black pants and black knee-high boots. A fur hat rested on his head, blocking the cold fall air. Hermione remained silent, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. “Are we not speaking now?” He questioned, stepping out of the way of a pair of girls, giggling and pointing up at him. Viktor remained unphased, moving around them to stand in front of Hermione.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” the witch sneered.

“I have a lot to say to you,” he whispered, stepping closer. She could see his breath in the air, a small cloud between them. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, avoiding his eyes.

“If Severus sees you talking to me…”

“He’ll jinx me?” Viktor laughed, rolling his eyes heavily. “I highly doubt that.” He inched closer once more, his right side leaning against the wall beside Hermione.

“There is _very_ little about me that you should doubt, Krum.” Severus’ thick voice penetrated the air and Viktor straightened. Hermione felt a hand fall on her wrist, fingers curled ever so slightly around it.

“I do believe we have a busy day ahead of us, don’t we Severus? All these students to accompany back to the castle...” Hermione stepped out into the street, her arm now linked onto Severus’ bicep. The pair allowed a large group of students to pass in front, one girl whipping her head around to stare at them. Severus narrowed his eyes at her and she flipped back around.

As they exited the village and out of Viktor’s sight, Hermione slipped out of Severus’ arm, slowing to her own comfortable pace. Her husband had his hands in his pockets, climbing up the hill towards the castle in front of them. She paused for a brief moment, contemplating turning around to see if Viktor remained. A hand grabbed hers, pulling her forward and Hermione’s eyes grew wide. Severus had her small hand in his, gripping it tightly. She flushed, moving to fall in step with him.

“Did he say anything to you?” Severus questioned, their hands swinging gently between them.

“Nothing of significance,” Hermione stated with indifference, her mind focused on the sensation of his hand around hers. It felt foreign, his touch. Severus’ palms were rough and calloused; his fingers were long, his nails short. They were making their way towards the covered bridge, the students filing through in groups of three or four.

“I don’t want Krum bothering you. If he does, you let me--”

“I can handle it.” She interjected, stopping just before the bridge.

“Just how you handled him the last time?”

Offended, Hermione yanked her hand from Severus’ grip. She made her way onto the bridge, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. “Obviously, I wouldn’t do things the exact same way. But I know a few good hexes that would stop him.”

“Really? Dark magic? Hmm.” Severus commented behind her, the solid heels of his boots echoing in the partially enclosed space.

“In the appropriate situation, yes. It’s not like I’m going to _Crucio_ him! Merlin.” Hermione groaned, stopping to look over the edge of the bridge. Her arms rested on the ledge, her bushy hair blowing in the wind. Severus did the same, his black eyes running over her fair face. “He’s caused so many more problems than I ever imagined.” She stated, hoping to provoke Severus’ thoughts.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Her husband asked soberly, one hand wrapped around the beam between them.

“No.”

“No?” Severus raised an eyebrow at the witch.

“Not at all. I always felt out of place with him.” Hermione’s eyes fell, resting on her fingers, fiddling with her nails.

“You don’t feel out of place with me?” At this, the witch’s eyes fluttered up, meeting her husband’s. This question caught her off guard, her pupils dilating.

“At times, yes. But others… No. But, of course, it’s to be expected. We barely know anything about each other.”

“That’s not true,” Severus stated firmly, straightening his posture. His black hair flew behind him in the wind, the dark shadow of stubble on his cheeks exposed. “We… don’t know the right things about one another.”

“Obviously not. I thought I had you figured out all through school, but you were not who I was expecting you to be… And, after the war, I thought that I finally understood. Wrong again.”

“How so?” Severus tilted his head, one corner of his lips curling. He was clearly intrigued in the conversation, hanging on Hermione’s words.

“It was you on the motorcycle,” she grinned, eyes sparkling. “Always the surprise, Severus Snape.”

“We are both not who we appear to be... You were the girl beneath the wig.”

Hermione blushed further, eyes darting away in embarrassment. “Yes,” She flipped her head back up at him, lips parted slightly. “But I was always the girl under the wig.”

“You were the know-it-all Gryffindor.”

“No. I was an _insufferable_ Gryffindor know-it-all. Get it right.” Hermione smirked, watching Severus to get a reaction.

“You’re not as insufferable as you once were.” Severus whispered, his black eyes sparkling subtly as he looked into her eyes. Silence fell over the pair, the cool wind blowing between them. “We should go back inside… It’s cold.” Severus stated suddenly, shoving his hands into the short pockets of his jacket. White hot pain ripped over his shoulders, plunging down his chest. Panic erupted in the wizard, fear bombarding him.

With an abrupt departure, Hermione watched the wizard race towards the castle. The elation of their improving conversation deflated, leaving her with the sense that she wasn’t good enough to be Severus Snape's wife.


	14. Fourteen

As Severus entered the castle, he stepped into one of the large bathrooms, closing the stall quickly behind him. Breathlessly, the wizard fiddled in the pocket of his jacket to pull out a vial, uncorking it with a loud pop. He poured the contents into his mouth, his hands shaking. Swallowing roughly, Severus grimaced and outstretched his arm to brace himself in the stall. The searing pain racing through his body began to subside, his breathing slowing.

Hermione waited awkwardly in the living room of their chambers, her arms crossed. Had she done something wrong? Severus left the conversation so suddenly... Doubt began to creep up in her head. The interaction they had in the village, regardless of what Hermione witnessed in the Three Broomsticks, had lead her to believe their relationship was improving. Even dealing with Viktor had allowed her to feel more comfortable with Severus; he wasn’t as angry as she thought he would be. But, the conversation on the bridge had gone a different direction, and Hermione began to analyze every bit of it.

As she sat down, her head falling into her hands, the door opened and shut with a slam. Hermione lifted her head, eyes on Severus. “Are you alright?” The witch hopped up, hurrying to stand awkwardly by the sofa.

“Why do you ask?” He questioned, eyes narrowed at her. Severus began to undress slightly, removing the scarf at his throat, unbuttoning the top of his jacket.

“You weren’t here when I came back… I-I was worried.”

“Don’t be.” Severus dismissed her, moving past her. He made his way through the living room, carrying the neck scarf over his arm. Reaching up towards his neck, the wizard continued to unbutton his jacket. He stepped onto the landing, undoing the button of the white shirt beneath his jacket. A sense of relief washed over him, now standing before the wardrobe of the bedroom, his neck free and exposed.

“I’m your _wife_!” She shouted with exacerbation. “It’s my job to be worried.” Hermione stopped in the doorway, grabbing ahold of the frame, eyes wide.

“It is not your job to do anything in regards to me, except to obey!” Severus spun around with his arms thrown out at his side. Hermione retracted, her eyes large with hurt. Then, her nostrils flared and she entered the room fully, racing towards him.

“I have obeyed you, followed all your rules. I’ve been the perfect fucking wife. You could have done _so much_ worse than me!” She spat, hands on her hips. Severus threw the scarf down on the floor next to him, stepping towards her. They were now inches apart, Hermione’s chest heaving with heated breaths.

“There are hundreds of witches I would have preferred to be matched with than you. I can assure you of that.”

“And you assume that I was jumping up and down with excitement when I found out I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with you? I wasn’t supposed to marry you!” Hermione shouted, her nostrils flaring. Anger filled her; she wanted to hit him. Her fingers curled and clenched together into fists.

“Ah, yes... This. I was _wondering_ when you’d make me feel guilty for taking Weasley’s spot.”

“Don’t you dare say his name!” She screamed, withdrawing her wand. Severus stepped backwards quickly. His eyes were wide, watching Hermione’s, blazing with fury as she stared up at him.

“What are you going to do? Hex me?” The wizard challenged, letting out a small chortle. He stared down at Hermione’s wand, tight in her grip.

“No.” Hermione’s face softened. A heavy sigh slipped from her lips, her shoulders falling. “I just wish you wouldn’t act like you hate me... As if you’re being tortured.”

“You’ve done nothing but torture me!” He cried, face twisted in pain. Hermione froze, watching in shock as Severus writhed with anguish.

“Torture you?” She wrinkled her face in confusion, leaning back.

“You have no idea what power you have.” His voice fell, head turned away in shame.

The witch moved over and sat on the edge of the bed, head sunk low. She held her hands in her lap, studying her fingers. Silence buzzed in their ears, both of their cheeks burning. Hermione longed to respond, but did not know how. Was he saying that she had power over him? Had she become attractive to him? Or was he saying that she was vindictive and manipulative?

Thoughts fluttered around in her brain while Severus stood uncomfortably in front of the trunk. His arm was folded to rest on his waist, his thumb and index finger curled beneath his chin. The wizard glanced over at Hermione, sitting with her head directed towards the floor. Making his way over to her, he stood, reaching one long finger down to land beneath her chin. He tilted it up, her warm, honey eyes glowing. Severus smiled softly, sliding his index finger along her chin, traveling over her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, a quivering breath escaping her lips. The black-haired wizard traced his finger along the arch of her cheek, following the map of her ear, curling behind it. Suddenly, Hermione’s hand reached up and caught his wrist, her eyes open.

His black eyes bore into hers; they were not how they usually appeared. Severus’ eyes were warmer, almost brown. His pupils were dilated, the iris sparkling. Hermione removed his hand from her face, slipping it down over her sweater, guiding him. Severus’ lips parted, swallowing nervously. The witch stood, the heat from his body radiating towards hers. His hands fell over her hips, lifting the sweater to pull it over her head. The small triangular bralette covered her breasts, one strap hanging off of her creamy white shoulder. Hermione’s warm hands raced up his chest, finding the buttons of his jacket. She began to unfasten them. _One at a time._

Moments later, Severus stood, his jacket and shirt strewn across the floor, bare-chested before Hermione. He shuddered beneath her touch, her hands tracing the numerous scars that decorated his torso. The witch leaned over slightly, Severus stepping back, his eyes never leaving her. Hermione pulled the denim pants, boots and socks off, tossing them towards the wardrobe. As she straightened, the witch felt a cold hand settle onto her hip. Her eyes flashed up, her hands reaching out to unfasten the belt around Severus’ pants. She undressed him hurriedly, peeling the trousers off of his legs.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked her softly, his index finger slipping under the strap of her bra. Hermione nodded, biting her upper lip. Severus slid his hands over her shoulders to unfasten her bra, the thin fabric dragging against the soft supple skin of her breasts. Their curved form stood out to him, her nipples dusty pink and erect. “Can I?” Severus requested, waiting for her nod, his hands held up to slip over her breasts.

His frigid hands against her breasts caused her nipples to harden further, slipping between his elongated fingers. Hermione moved, sitting back on the edge of the bed. Severus moved between her legs, spread wide for him. He could feel the throbbing between his legs, pressing against her thigh. The witch scooted back further on the bed, her hand reaching behind Severus’ back to pull him towards her. He fell onto his hands and knees, crawling. The witch laid back against the quilt, legs spread wide while Severus hovered over her. With anticipation, Hermione watched him come closer, to where she could feel his hot breath against her face. His thin lips collided with hers, moving slowly at first. Then, Hermione kissed him back. She jerked her head outwards, her lips angry and hot against his.

Moments later, Severus pulled the covers over them, moving to settle between the witch’s legs. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest, Hermione’s fingers tracing the scar at his neck. He leaned in further, kissing her once more… _And then all night long._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter, but... HERE IT IS. Fourteen chapters. And not even true great passionate smut. It could have been so much better. However, I wanted to keep you all on the edge of your seats. There will be more ;)


	15. Fifteen

Weeks passed, the couple falling in a comfortable routine. Apprentice and master for one half, husband and wife for the other part of the time. In the evenings, Hermione and Severus read in the living room and then retreated into the bedroom, where they slept comfortably by each other’s side. Weekly consummation had been going well for both parties, Saturday nights not as unbearable as they once were. 

One late fall Monday morning arrived, Hermione dressed in a pair of denim pants, brown knee-high riding boots, and a burnt orange turtleneck. The leaves had begun to change all around the castle grounds, brilliant red, yellow, and orange foliage scattered around. As Hermione made her way into the Potions classroom, Severus glanced up from his desk, a black eyebrow raised. She bubbled cheerfully, bouncing up in down in front of him. In her hands, she held a small, square piece of parchment.

“Yes?” Severus questioned suspiciously. 

“Ginny’s had the baby!” Hermione squealed, her arms raised outwards. She shook the parchment around in the air, her eyes squinted with excitement. “James Sirius Potter. Please, oh please, can we go visit them? We’ve nothing going on today! Please!?” She pleaded, eyes large to pout. 

Severus rolled his eyes, sighing deeply. He uncrossed his legs, reaching one long finger up to scratch his eye. “Very well. We will not overstay our welcome. I don’t suspect Mrs. Potter is feeling up to visitors.” 

“She wrote me and asked if we would come! Let’s go Severus!” She exclaimed, hurrying around the desk to pull the man up by his hand. Severus shook her out his grip, falling into a quick pace behind her. 

The pair arrived in their chambers, both pulling on their coats. Severus had shrugged off his teaching robes, opting for his black knee-length wool coat. Hermione was draping a plum colored scarf around her neck, buttoning the last button to her black pea coat. She smiled up at Severus as they made their way to the crackling fire in the center of the room. 

“Oh! I’ve got the gift!” Hermione exclaimed, holding up an index finger. She hurried into the bedroom, returning a minute later with a package tied in twine. “Sorry,” Hermione apologized, blushing. Reaching over, she took ahold of Severus’ hand. He exhaled and reached up into the jar of floo powder on the mantle. 

“Number 7 Greenwich Square.” Severus said, tossing the powder into the fire and stepping forward with his wife.  
As the green haze cleared before them, Ginny and Harry sat on their maroon loveseat, their legs draped over each other. It was a quaint living room, a gallery of pictures hanging behind them on a pale blue wall. Hermione excitedly hurried around the small wooden coffee table, grinning widely. In Ginny’s arms, bundled in a pale muslin swaddle, was Harry and Ginny’s son. Hermione’s heart was about to burst at the seams, pride swelling in her. 

“Ah, Gin! He’s lovely. And Harry, you’ve got a son!” Hermione exclaimed in a hushed tone as to not wake the sleeping baby. His skin was red, and the hair on his head thick and black. Ginny pulled back one edge of the blanket to trace her index finger across his brow. 

“Thanks... Ginny did amazing. It was all her.” Harry smiled, moving his legs off the couch and putting his arm around his wife. 

“Except you got me pregnant. So James is half of your responsibility now!” The red-headed witch rolled her eyes. Hermione noticed the way her belly was still large, her hair pulled back into a bun. Ginny’s eyes were bloodshot, evidence of the exhaustion of the labor. “Do you want to hold him? Here, have a seat!” She stated, nodding her head to an armchair next to the loveseat. 

Hermione glanced back at Severus, who lingered before the fire. His hands were clasped together at his waist, glancing about uncomfortably. She could not get his attention, so Hermione proceeded to sit in the armchair, scooting it closer to Ginny. The red-headed witch held out the newborn carefully as Hermione extended her arms to receive James. As she pulled the swaddled baby to her, she peered down at him. 

“Severus,” Harry stood, approaching the wizard hovering by the fire. “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

Severus paused for a moment, shifting uncomfortably. “Yes, thank you.” 

Harry then padded into the kitchen to the left, Severus following. Hermione watched as they left, and then turned her attention back to the baby in her arms. Ginny grinned, leaning towards her. 

“So?” 

“So what?” Hermione questioned, tilting her head. The baby stirred in her arms and Hermione lifted him slightly, his head rolling to rest against her breast. James smacked his tiny lips, opening his mouth with a wide yawn.

“You and Severus. Things look so much better than they were the last time I saw you.” Ginny crossed her legs beneath her, pulling a knitted blanket over them. 

“Obviously. We’d just found out we were getting married! It’s not as if it were going to get worse.” 

“But they could have! I mean, the sex..” Ginny paused briefly, her eyes growing. “Have you…?” 

“Gin!” Hermione exclaimed, squishing her face in embarrassment. “Of course we have… It’s written in the law… Weekly.” She rolled her eyes. Ginny blushed, covering her mouth. “It’s not terrible, honestly.” 

“But… It is Snape. Even though he gotten hot, he’s still… Snape.” The red-haired witch bit her lower lip, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. 

“Oh stop it!” Hermione groaned. “Here, I’ve got this.” She grabbed the parchment-wrapped gift from the floor, handing it over to Ginny. The frizzy-haired glanced down at the infant once more, reaching one hand up to smooth his silky, black hair. 

Ginny untied the twine, ripping off the parchment. Sitting on her lap was a pair of knitted booties and a hat in Gryffindor colors. The red-headed witch smiled brightly, holding up the set to examine them. “You’re gotten much better at knitting than when you first started. Remember all of those hats and scarves you made the house elves?” 

“Yes. And I have improved! I’ve charmed them so that they’ll grow with him through his first year.” 

“Oh, Hermione. It’s so sweet. Thank you.” Ginny stood from the sofa, moving to lean over and hug Hermione. “Severus, do you want to hold him?” Ginny asked. Hermione flipped around to look behind her. The black-haired wizard stood in the doorway to the kitchen, Harry moving around him to sit beside Ginny on the sofa. 

Severus cleared his throat, stepping into the living room. Hermione stood up, carefully holding out the baby. “Support his head, like this.” She showed him, handing over James to her husband. Severus shifted, the swaddled infant in his hands. Hermione reached over cautiously, positioning his arms so that James rested close to Severus’ chest. 

“Doesn’t he smell so good?” Ginny asked, grinning. Hermione turned and nodded, then faced back to Severus, the witch running her hand over James’ head. Severus studied the baby’s face, and then glanced up at Hermione. He noticed the way her eyes fell over the infant, her attentive glance warming his chest. 

Hermione watched as Severus moved to sit down in the armchair adjacent to Ginny. Harry had his arm around his wife once more, her head resting against his shoulder. They seemed to melt together, fitting comfortably like a well-made puzzle. Hermione felt a pang of sadness, trying to imagine her and Severus sitting on the sofa as the Potters were. 

“There’s something we’d like to ask you,” Harry started, pushing his round glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “We’d like you both to be James’ godparents.” 

Hermione felt her heart race, her eyes growing. “Us!?” She asked at once, surprising herself. Severus flipped his head up at her, his black hair falling over his shoulder. James’ face began to contort, a feeble cry emerging from his lips. 

“Absolutely. Harry and I discussed it, and we want you. Both of you.” Ginny stated, looking from Hermione down to Severus. She stood, leaning over to lift James from Severus’ embrace. 

“No.” Severus stated. “I don’t think so. At least, not me.” He stretched his neck and then tugged on the sleeves of his coat.

“Severus?” Hermione questioned in a hushed tone. He shook his head at her, holding out an index finger. 

“I do not feel I’m the right man to take care of your son if… something were to happen.” 

“Nothing will happen, Severus.” Harry replied, watching as Ginny lifted her shirt to place James at her breast. Severus glanced away, uncomfortable. 

“Let us discuss it, please. But we’re thrilled. Extremely thrilled.” Hermione said reassuringly. Ginny smiled softly, James sucking at her breast. “Thank you for having us. It was so nice of you.” 

Severus came to his feet, shrugging his shoulders to adjust his coat. He stepped over towards the fire, Harry coming around the coffee table to shake his hand. Hermione walked over and kissed Ginny on the cheek. 

“Honestly, thank you for inviting us over. I’m so happy for you and Harry. And I’m… I’m sorry about Severus. He’ll come around.” 

“We do mean it. We really want both of you to be James’ godparents, Hermione.” Ginny said seriously. 

“I’ll let you know. I love you,” she whispered, moving to stand by her husband. They floo’d back into the castle, stepping into their living room after a flash of green light. 

 

Hermione removed her coat, levitating it across the room to hanging on the coat rack. She huffed, sitting down on the couch. The witch grabbed her book from the coffee table, opening it to the page she had left off on. Severus walked over to hang his coat on the rack, and sat in his chair by the fire. A few moments later, the witch slammed her book shut, tossing it back onto the table in front of her.

“Are you going to explain yourself, or am I going to have to read your mind?” Hermione asked, her eyes low with frustration.

“You know I’ll block you,” Severus stated, his head turned down and his thumb and index finger running over his eyebrows. 

“That’s not the point!” She sighed, straightening her sweater at the neck. “Why did you tell Harry and Ginny no?” 

“I am not fit to be a godfather.” 

“According to who?” Hermione questioned, eyebrows bent in confusion. 

“To me! And I’m the only one that matters. I do not want to be James’ godfather. Don’t try and talk me into it either, because you will not be able to.” 

“Severus… Is it because you don’t want to be his godfather, or because you’re scared to?” 

“Scared? Of what? He’s a fucking infant.” Severus tossed his hand up, eyes rolled back in disbelief.

At this, Hermione shook her head swiftly, her face bent in anger. She crossed her arms, glancing back over at her husband. He was staring intensely at her, his black eyes narrow. 

“Are you scared they’ll die, and you’ll be responsible for him?” 

“What decent person would not be concerned about that?” 

The witch let out a frustrated groan, slamming her hands against the sofa. “You know I’ll get pregnant eventually and you’ll have to be a father, right?” 

Severus stiffened, his nostrils flaring. His lips parted slightly, he opened his mouth to respond, but could not speak. He turned his attention to the fire, and then shifted back to Hermione. 

“It won’t come to that.” 

“Me getting pregnant? I’m sorry, but for all I know, I could be pregnant now. Do you want to spend your years in Azkaban, or worse… A squib… All because you didn’t comply to the marriage law? Are you that fucking shallow, Severus?” She yelled at him, her voice screeching. Anger bubbled at her throat, her chest heaving. 

“Are you… Are you pregnant?” 

“No! Thank Merlin. I don’t want a child with you, ever. Ron would have never done this.” She spat, standing up. Hermione raced up into the bedroom, her boots stomping against the stone floor. Severus watched with fury as the door slammed behind her, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts of guilt and fear.


	16. Sixteen

Hermione emerged from the bedroom an hour later, ready to apologize. She had calmed down, and knew full and well that what she had said to Severus had not been kind. When she entered the living room, she did not see him, but could hear loud clanging noises coming from the room beneath the stairs. 

“Severus?” She called, knocking gently on the door. The black-haired wizard opened the door a crack, a dark green apron tied around his waist. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. 

“What?” He spat.

“I came to apologize.” 

“Don’t.” Severus slammed the door in her face, going back to work on brewing more potion. Severus started to add the Boomslang skin to his cauldron, but sat on the stool, hunched over. His joints ached, his head pounded. The wizard knew that the potion was not working as it had for the last few years… The efficacy had begun to weaken, and he could feel it in every part of his body. Beneath his fingernails, splinter hemorrhages striped his nail beds purple. Tightness in his neck caused Severus to straighten, rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder. 

“Severus, please.” Her voice was soft and small from behind the door to his study. Pushing her voice out of his head, Severus came to his feet and poured his attention back into brewing the potion. Yet again, he poured the blue liquid into 30 vials, placing a cork carefully into each bottle. As the wizard sat the crate against the wall, he looked around. To his right was a wall full of glass cases, his own personal store. Along the left wall sat a desk where he could grade, and a small corner of the room devoted to his exercise equipment. Dumbells and a standing pull-up bar rested in front of the window. 

In the center of the room was his work table, customized to be at his height. The shining cauldron sat above a bunsen burner, and the surface surrounding it was cluttered. A palm-sized knife, two lost sprigs of lavender, and his open potions text was spread across the top of his table. 

The wizard made his way across the room, sitting behind his desk, opening one of the side drawers. He removed a well-worn photograph, tracing his finger over the glossy surface. Lily danced before him, her violent red hair spinning behind her as she smiled widely. Snow fell around her, her hands spread out beside her to catch snowflakes. It was the one piece of her he had left. Severus inhaled and exhaled deeply, watching the photograph move in front of him. What would Lily have told him? Would she have told him to do the right thing and be James’ godfather? Or would she have told Severus to say no and then be honest with Hermione? His head was conflicted with thoughts on both sides and he tried to shove them out. In his heart, Severus knew Lily wanted him to watch over Harry, and now, Harry’s family. It was the right thing to do.

He had done so many things wrong in his life, pushing away Lily being the biggest mistake he’d ever made… If he had only listened to her and gone away from the dark arts, Severus thought. He clenched his jaw, blinking back tears. He could still smell her, jasmine and old books. The scent overwhelmed him, and he had to look around to see if she was really there. With sadness, he tucked the photograph back into the drawer, closing it. His eyes shut for a brief moment, picturing her. Severus always imagined Lily spread out on the grass in front of the lake, her eyes closed, her face turned towards the sun. Her porcelain skin sparkled, and she opened her vivid green eyes to turn over and look at him. 

The feeling was all too surreal, flashbacks bombarding his nostalgia. Severus stood quickly, leaving the study and locking it with his wand. The living room was dark, only a subtle glow of the fire lighting his way up to the bedroom. Hermione sat in bed, reading with her eyes behind her tortoise-shell glasses. As he stood in front of the wardrobe, undressing, Hermione watched. Severus stood in a pair of grey boxers, pulling on a pair of black lounge pants. When he turned to face her, the witch darted her eyes back to the book in front of her. 

“What you said… Earlier… About Mr. Weasley,” Severus started. Hermione peered up over her glasses at him, following him as he moved to climb onto the bed. He bent one knee, his foot folded in towards his other leg, which dangled over the edge of the bed. “I not like him, and I will never be... I am not a kind man.” 

Hermione sat up higher in bed, closing her book. She could hardly believe the words coming from Severus’ mouth. “Oh Severus. You are a kind man, but no, you’re not like Ronald. And that wasn’t fair of me to say.” Hermione huffed, shame ringing in her ears. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier... I was angry and… scared.” She watched as Severus moved closer to her, sitting in the middle of the bed, his hand reaching out for hers. 

“I need you to write the Potter’s and let them know we will be James’ godparents.” 

“You know that if we apply for a divorce once the law is revoked, you can’t go back on this?” Hermione questioned, turning Severus’ hand over to trace the lines on his palm. She lifted the glasses up, pushing them on top of her head. 

“I will commit and accept the responsibility. After all, James may be sorted into Slytherin and need a familiar face.” Severus raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who sucked her bottom lip in and rolled her eyes at the wizard. 

“What will we do if I conceive?” She asked, her eyes falling. The black-haired wizard sighed and nodded slowly. 

“We go on.”

“You… You won’t force me to get an abortion?” 

“The law states that we cannot. If you were to conceive, which, if everything continues, you will… We cannot terminate the pregnancy.” 

“I know what the law says! But I can’t have a baby, erm, your baby, unless I were to know you were always going to be there to support it.” Hermione stated soberly, her hand travelling up his wrist, to his exposed forearm. The dark mark was faded now, a dull grey. It was still noticeable, but not as stark black as years earlier. When her index finger fell upon the skull, Severus retracted his arm, pulling it up to his chest. 

“I would never leave a child without its father,” Severus stated firmly, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Even if we… We are not together in the years to come, I will take care of our children.” 

“Children!?” Hermione squealed, her eyes huge. Severus suppressed a laugh, standing at the side of the bed to pull the covers back. 

“Let’s go to bed. A busy day tomorrow. The fourth years will be brewing Wolfsbane.” Severus crawled beneath the heavy quilt, lying on his side to face the witch beside him. Hermione pulled the glasses from her head, folding them and placing them on top of her book on the nightstand. 

“It’s hard to believe the two of us are expected to have children. Who would have ever thought?” Hermione chuckled lightly, fluffing her pillow to relax against it. She rolled over to look at Severus, who already had his eyes closed. A long black strand of hair had fallen in his face, and the witch moved it out the way, studying him as she fell asleep. 

 

When Hermione arrived in the Great Hall the next morning, she found that her table was no longer adjacent to the faculty table. Her eyes darted around nervously, and found Severus beckoning her with a nod of his head. To his right, there was an open seat at the end of the table. With wide eyes, the witch moved around to sit next to her husband. 

“Is there some reason there is no longer a table for the apprentices?” Hermione questioned as her husband handed her a large bowl of porridge. She served herself, waiting for an answer. 

“It’s not appropriate for you to eat alone as a married witch. I should have asked to have the seating arrangements changed months ago when we got married, but I didn’t.” 

“Severus… I would like to have some kind of identity other than being your wife!” She whispered harshly, reaching across the table to get two sausages. The witch drank her coffee, looking about the room. Students were scattered across the tables, some with their textbooks open, other simply talking amongst each other. 

“Your identity includes being my wife.” Severus lifted the mug of tea, drinking the steaming liquid, and placing it back down. His face was cleanly shaven, only the slightest bit of a shadow remained on his jaw. “And being a married witch requires you to do certain things. Which includes never eating alone. You must also not sleep alone. We’ve already addressed that.” He mumbled, working on the breakfast in front of him.

“But Sev-” 

“Attention please! I have a splendid announcement I’d like to share with you all!” Professor McGonagall shouted from the podium in the center of the Great Hall. Hermione put down her fork, sighing and turning to face forward from Severus. “As you all know, this year marks one of the greatest traditions the magical world has ever known. It will be the 300th anniversary of the first All Hallows Eve, and to celebrate, we will be having a ball.” 

The Great Hall broke out in gasps, and applause. Hermione even heard a few cheers, but she found herself panicked. A ball? What would she wear? Hermione had experience with going out to clubs and dancing, but the thought of dancing with a partner at a ball petrified her. She hadn’t been to an event like it for over 10 years… Not since the bloody Yule Ball with Viktor! She rolled her eyes internally, reminded of her sour relationship with the wizard. 

“All Hallows Eve is this next Friday, and at 8 o’clock here in the Great Hall, we invite you all to join us. Students may have dates, and must dress in a formal costume! I will be hosting dancing lessons this evening, and every night until the ball next Friday for those of you who need a little practice. Now, have a wonderful day!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She nodded curtly, her pointed hat stiff, and turned back to walk around the table and take her seat. 

“I’ll have to make a dress and find a da-- Oh.” She froze, realizing what she was about to say. Of course, Severus would be here date. Unless he was not going to attend… “Are you going?” Hermione asked, turning her head to the left towards her husband. 

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes, placing a spoonful of porridge in his mouth. 

“Don’t be an ass. I didn’t take you to be the ball type.” She rolled her eyes, sipping on her coffee. He stiffened, glancing in the direction of Viktor, who was talking to Hagrid. Hermione opened her mouth in shock, and then closed it to smile. “You’re only going Viktor won’t ask me… You’re jealous!” She exclaimed, biting her lip. 

“I never said that.” He uttered shortly, standing to smooth down his jacket and teaching robes. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got a full schedule.” 

Hermione smiled the entire way to the Potions classroom, following Snape’s billowing robes. As they entered the room, Snape stopped abruptly, turning around. 

“Wipe that smile off of your face.” He said, staring down at the witch.

Hermione’s face fell to pout, her shoulders shrinking. Severus leaned forward and kissed her quickly on the forehead.


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When they dance, I envisioned the song from the Balcony Scene in William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (the amazing one with baby Leonardo DiCaprio) playing. Super romantic piano music.

The night of the ball arrived before Hermione knew it. She was freshly bathed and applying makeup in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her. As she examined her hair, Hermione struggled with deciding how to style it. She finally chose to pin it up into an elegant bun, and affixed the hair piece she had arranged at the back of her head. As she moved into the bedroom, the witch dropped her towel in the bathroom and opened the trunk. Hermione slipped on a white lace thong that she bought specifically to wear underneath her gown. As she turned towards the wardrobe, Severus walked into the bedroom. They both froze, the witch’s eyes growing, and his falling to her naked breasts. His gaze lingered for a second longer, before Hermione reached her hands up and covered them, stepping towards the wardrobe. 

Severus stepped into the room fully, closing the door without breaking eye contact with the witch. Hermione turned, pressing her back against the furniture, watching her husband make his way towards her. The sleeves to his white shirt were rolled up, revealing his strong forearms. Hermione realized he must have been working in his study as he only wore his sleeves up when he was brewing a potion. Severus' hair was tousled and thick, falling behind his shoulders onto his back. He stepped further into her space, his body so close that the buttons on his shirt pressed against her hands. Hermione bit her lip, her back flat against the wardrobe. 

“Excuse me,” Severus whispered, reaching behind the witch to open the door. She hopped out of the way, watching as her husband removed a set of dress robes, and turned to make his way into the bathroom. Letting out a sigh, Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought of him looking at her breasts and enjoying the view. 

In fact, Severus did. As he hung his dress robes on the back of the bathroom door, he pressed his palm against the surface to brace himself. Between his legs, he was aroused from the brief interaction… His pants were tented, Hermione’s breasts still fresh in his head. The wizard got into the shower, the cold water beating against his skin. Even as he washed his body, Severus could hardly stand from the throbbing of his cock. He thought of all the things that disgusted him, but there was nothing that could override the image of Hermione standing in front of the wardrobe in her white thong. 

Hermione reached into the wardrobe, removing her dress. She hung it on the cathedral window-like opening on the bed, examining it once again. It was perfect... The simple vintage dress had been exactly what she was looking for, a chance encounter at a shop in Hogsmeade. A few hours of work and imagination had resulted in the costume of her dreams. Hermione removed it from the hanger, stepping into it carefully. It felt heavier on that she had remembered. She pulled it onto her shoulders, giving extra caution as to not disturb the embroidery. 

As she was stepping into a pair of white suede pumps, Hermione heard the bathroom door open. Severus emerged and Hermione felt the breath rush out from between her lips. Her husband was dressed in a pair of black trousers, black shining dress shoes and a white tuxedo shirt. Beneath a black velvet jacket that fell to his knees, Severus wore a matching black vest and bow tie. 

Hermione continued to look over her shoulder, her dress half-on. Severus walked over to the witch, lifting the fabric onto her. He reached down to button the fabric up to the middle of her back. The dress had a long train and Severus was careful not to step on it as he moved away. 

“What are you supposed to be?” He asked her, watching as she pulled the back of her skirts behind her to turn to him. 

“The Goddess Gaea… Also known as Mother Earth.” Hermione grinned and felt her cheeks grow warm when she noticed Severus studying her dress. The gown was a light blue with a deep V neckline and plunging back. The bodice was tight and stopped at her waist to flow out into a large tulle skirt and long train. Hermione adjusted the sleeves, which billowed out to come back to elastic at her wrists. What excited the witch the most was the ornate embroidered flowers that covered the dress from the neck and then began to fade and scatter at her hips. 

“And what are you?” She questioned suspiciously. 

“Hades, of course. The God of the Underworld.” At Severus’ nonchalant statement, Hermione pulled her head back, furrowing her brow in confusion. Then, she saw a twitch of his lips, and shot the wizard a look of annoyance. 

“Alright, Hades. Let’s get on. We’ll be late.” 

Making their way through the castle, Hermione held her dress high as to not step or trip over the mounds of tulle. Severus walked in front of her, the heels of his dress shoes echoing in the corridor. As they approached the Great Hall, the witch felt fluttering in her abdomen and slowed her pace. Her husband floated down the stairs, stopping to turn around. Hermione was frozen on the landing, her eyes wide. Deep inside, a small part of Hermione was telling her not to go into the Great Hall. Her instinct was urging her to turn around and go back to their rooms. But Severus stood below her, his hand held out towards the witch. For a brief moment, Hermione was worried that he was angry at having to wait on her. However, to her surprise, Severus appeared concerned, his eyebrows bent. 

The witch exhaled with pursed lips, and picked up her skirts to begin her descent. On the bottom step, her hand landed in his, and he curled his fingers around hers. The couple entered the massive doors, both surprised by the view in front of the them. The Great Hall had been transformed into a forest. Tall, thick trees stood in front of where the windows were, benches and tables scattered to the side. From the ceiling hung hundreds of vintage light bulbs, glowing warmly. Deep green foliage filled every available space in the room, candles radiating from hurricane vases in the center of the tables. 

Hermione glanced about, her hand still in Severus’. She noticed the students, gathered at their tables, all had their eyes on her and her husband. The witch felt her hand slip out of Severus’ as they arrived at the front of the room. Professors McGonagall, Trelawney, Flitwick, and Krum all stood in front of one table, sipping on drinks. Hermione hovered uncomfortably next to Severus, feeling Viktor’s gaze upon her. 

Viktor was dressed in a scarlet dress coat and black pants, his arms crossed over his chest. He did not budge from his position at the opposite end of the group. Severus turned to block Krum’s view, leaning down to whisper in Hermione’s ear. 

“You’re not going to force me to dance, are you?” 

Hermione giggled, covering her mouth with her fingers. Severus retracted, straightening. 

“It’s either you or Professor Flitwick… And I’ve heard he’s quite voracious.” 

Severus smirked at her and stepped out of the group to walk over and wait for a drink. Professor McGonagall approached Hermione, wearing a vibrant gold hat and matching dress robes. 

“Your costume is lovely. Who are you?” 

“Mother Earth.” Hermione stated, her eyes meeting Minerva’s. The witch noticed McGonagall’s poor attention and turned her head to see that the headmistress was watching Severus. 

“How are you and Mr. Snape?” 

“Quite well, thank you.” Hermione found the conversation stagnant and impersonal. Just as she was ready to give her regrets and leave, Hermione felt a hand at the small of her back. 

“Harassing my wife, Minerva?” Severus raised an eyebrow, handing over a goblet to Hermione. The witch took it joyfully, bringing it up her mouth and taking a long swig. 

“Hardly, Severus. Please enjoy your evening. The dancing will start soon.” The elder witch nodded curtly, lifted her skirts and made her way down into the center of the room. Hermione watched her carefully. Severus’ hand slipped up and rested on the base of her neck. 

“Will you dance with me?” Hermione asked, hearing Minerva cue the small orchestra to begin playing. Severus glanced down, one black eyebrow raised. 

“I thought we’d already answered that.” 

“Please? Just one. And then we can be done.” Frankly, Hermione’s feet were hurting in the pumps, and she was famished. Severus hesitated, and then reluctantly agreed. They waited for the next song, and made their way towards the open area in the hall. 

Severus held out his hand for Hermione, and she placed hers in his. A slow violin solo began, and soon the orchestra began to fill in. Severus took Hermione’s waist and they began to move. As they floated across the dance floor, the wizard couldn’t help but notice the glow about his little wife. Never had he expected to want to learn more about a person, let alone Hermione Granger. In the three months they had begun to truly know one another, Severus was surprised to know the little quirks that her made her special: The way she sighed when she dreamed, how quickly her eyes traveled over the words on a page, and the way her face scrunched up when she was concentrating. Severus could not identify the feeling he had resting deep in his belly… Was it happiness? He found himself studying her physical beauty as well... Hermione’s cheeks were scattered with faint freckles, her nose turned up slightly. Her long front teeth had altered to fit in line with the rest. Who was he? Severus could hardly recognize the sentimental prat he’d become. Where was the firm, unfeeling man he once was? There was no way that Hermione was going to change him. And in a way, she would never. But in time, Severus knew that he was softening. Every morning when he woke up next to her, he wanted to kiss her a thousand times over, and never stop kissing her. Severus wanted to make her his and no one else’s.

Hermione’s eyes never left Severus’ during the dance. She felt herself moving closer and closer until their bodies were pressed against each other as they traveled across the room. It seemed as if there was no one else besides them beneath the warm lights. Hermione wanted so badly to tell Severus how she felt about him, but couldn’t. The secret conversations between him and McGonagall and the private study in their rooms held her back. As well, the guilt of almost rekindling her relationship with Krum was enough to stop her from ever saying anything to Severus. Shame rushed through her in that moment, fear rising like bile in her throat. So many actions led Hermione to believe that Severus felt the same way, including their momentous consummation weeks earlier. But why did he stay so distant? Was it something Hermione had done? She began to think back, and found that she could not pinpoint any one situation that could push him away. In fact, Hermione felt as if she had done plenty to draw the man to her. The witch desired to have him reciprocate her feelings, confirm that what she was feeling and sensing was not false. It was now… The next song. She would tell him that she wanted to sleep with him, commit to the marriage… Even possibly have his children and spend their life together raising them. If she didn’t tell him, she would regret it. 

Severus glanced up and saw Minerva McGonagall hovering in front of the entrance to the Great Hall, and stiffened slightly. As the song came to an end, the couple separated and Hermione began to say something to Severus as he interrupted her. 

“I’m going to the restroom.” He uttered, floating through the crowded room and out of the tall doors. Hermione waited a few seconds and followed, hoping to catch him outside and tell him privately. Pausing in the doorway, the witch saw Severus’ black velvet jacket flutter behind him as he entered an alcove. 

Hermione lifted her skirts and darted across the stone floor, hiding around the corner. She could hear hushed voices, recognizing yet again, Minerva McGonagall’s voice.


	18. Eighteen

Severus brushed his hands over the black jacket, flipping a thick strand of hair from his face. 

“What is so important that you needed to interrupt me?” Severus questioned sourly.

Minerva looked at him soberly. “Sybil came to visit me.” 

“What does this have to do with me?” 

“Just listen.” Minerva commanded him, going on. “‘The master of dark and light and the scholar who saved The One time and time again cannot exist without their half, but must destroy the serpent once and for all to endure time.’”

“Is it about what I think it is?” Severus questioned, wringing his hands, his face turned down towards McGonagall. 

“I do believe. And of course, you still haven’t told her.” 

“No. It’s still not been right.” Severus replied.

“Severus! It must be done. It must be done tonight. Look at yourself, you don’t have much more time.” 

“With the potion, I am able to keep going.” 

“It’s merely buying you a few minutes, when you know you need days, weeks… Years. You cannot do this alone.” 

“She’ll leave if I tell her.” Severus uttered, his face twisted in frustration. Minerva placed a hand on his shoulder, peering up into his eyes with concern. 

“If you don’t try, you’ll never know.” 

“And you’re certain about the prophecy?” 

“The master and the scholar? Who else?” Minerva questioned, her voice falling. A moment of silence paused the conversation.

“Tonight, then.” Severus stated, sighing heavily. He felt defeated, his shoulders heavy. Severus watched Minerva nod with confidence and agreeance, pivoting and leaving the alcove. He paced for a few moments, contemplating his next move. The knowledge that he would have to tell Hermione that night was enough to make him want to vomit. 

Hermione hovered around the corner for a minute longer, breathing quickly. What was going on? Her heart raced, pounding against her chest--the witch could feel it in her throat. Severus had kept this secret from her for months, and the witch could no longer bear for him to keep it to herself. 

“What was that about?” Hermione rushed towards Severus, slamming her hands into his chest. The wizard fell against the stone wall of the alcove. 

“How dare you, spiteful witch!” His voice raised, Severus had his nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. 

“What were you and McGonagall discussing? Tell me!” Hermione screamed.

“It is nothing to concern you!” He spat, flipping his hand up in the air with anger. Severus turned his attention down to the floor, avoiding the witch.

“Are you petitioning for a divorce?” 

The words escaped her lips before she even realized it. But there was no turning back. Severus whipped his head around at her, his eyes ablaze. “Just tell me!” Hermione cried, hands up in the air. Severus opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but pressed his lips together, shaking his head subtly. 

“No… Why would you think such a thing?” 

“ I have no idea what the fuck is going on right now, and it seemed like the most logical explanation!” The witch exclaimed, distressed. “Does this have anything to do with the conversation between you and McGonagall in The Three Broomsticks a few weeks ago?” 

“Is there no such thing as a private conversation!?” Severus jerked his head upward, eyes narrowed. 

“Oh get off it! Just tell me, Severus!” Hermione yelled. 

“Yes.” He nodded slowly, connecting his thoughts. He sighed once more, deciding it was the end of the line. “There’s been a prophecy… About us.”

Hermione’s face twisted in confusion, her eyes bewildered. “Us? What!? Why would it be about us?” 

“Keep your voice down!” He commanded, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her further into the alcove. Her tulle skirt wedged uncomfortably between them, Hermione pulling it behind her. “I’m not certain.” Severus uttered.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Hermione started, stepping towards Severus. She raised her hand to rest it on his cheek lovingly. “I’m worried… Please, Severus.”

“I am the master of dark and light. You are the scholar who saved The One… Harry. We cannot survive without the other.” 

“What!? Of course we can!” 

“No. We cannot. The prophecy states we cannot survive without our half. You are my… half.” Severus swallowed painfully. 

“Wait… Wait… Tell me the whole prophecy.” Hermione ordered firmly, hands on her hips. She adjusted her position, standing uncomfortably in the elegant evening gown. 

Severus repeated it verbatim and then watched Hermione’s face for her reaction. The witch remained silent for longer than he had expected, two fingers drawn over her lips. Her eyes were large, and when she met Severus’ gaze, he saw that there were tears welled in them. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, reaching his thumb out to wipe them from her cheek. Hermione turned her head away from him, pushing his hand down. 

“How long have you known about the prophecy?” 

“I just found out a few minutes ago.” 

“So… Then what were you and McGonagall talking about? Something about needing to tell me? Besides the prophecy, of course.” 

Severus inhaled sharply, clenching his jaw nervously. “We should go back to our chambers and discuss this.” 

“No. Now. I’ve been patient for long enough, Severus.” Hermione whipped her head back up at him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her cheeks were still damp from the tears, her eyes now bloodshot. 

“Very well… During the war, when I was attacked by Nagini, I was rescued and nursed back to health at St. Mungo’s. It took a lot of potions and magic, but I was healed and able to go on about my life. A few months after the war, when I had finished the trials with the Ministry, I noticed that I was getting sick. Bleeding, like nose bleeds or even blood from my ears… And immense pain. It kept getting worse. So, I went and began to work on brewing a potion that would help.” 

Hermione watched Severus give his explanation, and already she wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly. His face was somber, his eyes weak and tired. 

“When I found the right potion, I was able to manage without hardly any symptoms at all.. But over the last two years, my symptoms have worsened and the potion seems less effective. If I don’t create a new potion or find a cure, I will die. And according to the prophecy, you are the only one that can help me do that.”

“So you’re telling me that you’ve kept this a secret all this time? Severus, what were you thinking?” Hermione asked, tossing her hands into the air at her side. She felt tears spring into her eyes once more, thinking back to the night when Severus was dying… When Ron died. Panic began to rise in her, the realization that she may lose two men she cared about hitting her in the chest. 

“I did not want to tell… But I felt I needed to.” 

“You don’t trust me, do you?” She questioned. 

“At first, no.”

“Because you thought I was in love with Krum.” 

“That was part of it, yes.” 

“What was the other part?” Curiosity rose in Hermione, who was now leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. 

“I was… worried. That you’d leave me when you found out.” 

“You had that little faith in me?” She questioned, sighing heavily. “After trying to prove my loyalty to you, going above and beyond to try and please you. And still, you kept this from me.” Hermione rolled her eyes, jutting out her jaw in disbelief. “Unbelievable.” The witch reached her hand up to wipe one eye, sniffling quitely. Severus stiffened, uncomfortable. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid--hurting her. From the very start, he had been determined not to cause her any unnecessary pain. 

“Hermione--” Severus reached out for the witch, but she pushed him away, lifting her skirts. She raced off, down the corridor. He watched as she disappeared, her sky blue train flying behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's see where this goes... Now you know about this mysterious illness!


	19. Nineteen

Her dress was strewn across the bed, the door to the wardrobe open. A handful of her clothes and shoes, as well as her knickers were gone from the trunk. Severus untied the bow tie, letting it drape over his neck. He sighed heavily, sitting on the window seat. Where had she gone? Surely not far…

Severus fervently hoped that she was at the Potter’s. However, a small part of him doubted that, and feared she was in the arms of another man, or worse… _Gone_. If he was worried enough, he could trace the floo network, or… No. That was wrong. Let her have her space, he thought. Severus groaned, trying to let his mind wander from Hermione.

Unable to shake her from his mind, Severus hurried down the stairs and to the bar cart adjacent to the dining room table and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey. He settled himself by the fire, deciding to bring the bottle with him.

When she left the castle, Hermione packed a small bag and disapparated to London. Rather than wake the Potter’s, the witch decided to get a hotel. She paid for it in muggle money as to not be traced, and chose to go where she felt the most at home: the library. Before her, thousands of muggle books were stacked neatly, organized by genre and author. Hermione pulled a title from the shelf that she was read as a child. _Peter Rabbit_ , a happy story, brought tears to her eyes when she finished reading and closed the back cover. She couldn’t help but cry, emotions pouring out of her.

How could Severus have kept such a secret from her? For weeks, she’d slept by his side and had no idea of the torment and agony he’d been suffering. Hermione analyzed the situation further, putting the book back in its place. As she walked back to the hotel, she had her hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat. The city was abuzz, glowing lights reflected on the wet pavement. Deep down, Hermione knew her reaction to the truth Severus had told was not true anger, but it had been out of fright. She was terrified to lose him, regardless of their hot and cold relationship.

Hermione finally felt she could let her guard down just a little and tell Severus her true feelings. But now, how could she? If she told him, he would push her away-- _she knew it._ As she approached the hotel, a short building with a wide canopy overarching the sidewalk, Hermione had made a decision. She and Severus would create the potion to cure him. But, he was going to have to work with her--she needed more. Hermione bit her lip, imagining _everything_ he could give her. Severus would have to agree to the terms in order for her to help him, and frankly, he needed her help. Thinking back to the prophecy, Hermione found that her decision was concrete; the witch could not exist without her half. And most certainly, she did not want to exist without him at all.

Hermione woke up the next morning, disoriented and exhausted. Half of the night she had tossed and turned, uncomfortable. The hotel room was adequate for sleeping purposes, but was not her familiar surroundings. Over the last few weeks, she had grown accustomed to Severus by her side in bed. Dressing quickly, the witch pulled on a cream-colored wool turtleneck. She buttoned a pair of skinny black trousers and sat on the edge of the bed to slip on a pair of brown suede ankle booties. Finally, as she was throwing her things into the overnight bag, the witch threw on her black knee-length wool coat.

Hermione stormed through the castle, a woman on a mission. Opening the door to her chambers, the witch stepped in cautiously, careful not to wake Severus whom she presumed to be sleeping upstairs. She shivered, looking over to see the fire had died down to a few glowing embers. Hermione dropped her bag at the door, reaching down to scratch Crookshanks’ head. Straightening, she made her way across the living room to restart the fire. As she approached, she stopped suddenly when she noticed Severus. He sat in the chair, eyes bloodshot and blank as he faced the fire.

“Severus,” she whispered, waiting for him to respond. Severus stirred, his onyx eyes shifting up towards the witch. He inhaled sharply, straightening in the chair.

“Where were you?” He questioned, his voice low and thick. Not accusatory, not angry. Hermione looked down on Severus, reaching her hand out to place it against his cheek.

“A hotel in London. I didn’t want to bother Harry and Ginny... I’m sorry about all of it. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. And I shouldn’t have run off. I just--I didn’t know what to do.” Hermione hovered uncomfortably, removing her hand from Severus’ face. “But I know now. I’ve decided we’re going to make the potion to cure you.”

“We?” Severus raised his eyebrows, tilting his head.

“Yes. But if you want my help, I have some conditions.”

“Conditions?” Severus paused, contemplating. “Alright.”

“One,” Hermione started, crossing her arms. She was going to stand firm. “No more secrets or lies. From either of us.” The witch observed the raven-haired wizard blink at her with concentration. “Two… I want our, um, consummations to be more… Fun. No more miscommunications, no more uncomfortable interactions. If we’re going to make this marriage work, we are most _certainly_ going to have spice up our life in the bedroom.”

At this, Severus came to his feet, covering his mouth with his thumb and index finger. He scrutinized Hermione, letting the hand at his face fall to his side. “Define… _fun._ ”

Hermione froze. She hadn't gotten that far. What _did_ she want? Glancing about nervously, Hermione rocked back on her heels. “There’s got to be something you want, isn’t there?”

“I want to know your body...” he uttered after a few moments of silence. Hermione sucked her teeth.

“Would you be willing to… explore? Try, erm, different things?” The witch asked, warmth spreading through her cheeks. Severus moved his hands, placing them in the pockets of his dress trousers.

“Yes.”

“Okay. There. That was my second condition.”

“There’s another, I presume.” Severus replied, annoyance at the front of his molasses voice.

“Yes… The last one, I promise. You have to trust me--trust that I’m not going to cheat on you. Trust that I’m not against you, but with you.” Hermione inhaled as if she were going to continue, but breath rushed out of her. Silence buzzed in their eyes and the witch scratched the back of her neck.

“Very well.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders. As she turned to walk away, Severus’ hand caught her wrist. He pulled her back to him, Hermione flat against his chest with her arms folded in front of her. “I’m taking you to bed, and we are going to--how did you put it? Right… _Explore_.”

Hermione gaped at the wizard, her mouth suddenly dry. Desire began to fill her, the witch brimming with excitement. In one smooth movement, Severus lifted her at her thighs, tossing her over his shoulder. The witch let herself be carried up the stairs, Severus’ hand lifted to spank her hard.

In a few moments, Hermione found herself being tossed onto the bed. On her back, she pulled the sweater over her head and wiggled out of her trousers breathlessly. Severus hovered above her on his knees, stripping off his dress robes from the night before. Just as she was about to reach up and unbuckle his belt, Severus grabbed ahold of Hermione’s wrists, pinning her back against the bed. He grinned, moving his head down to kiss her neck.

Moaning, the witch turned her head to allow his lips to caress her sensitive skin. Severus released her and Hermione moved her hands to cling to his back, nails digging in. He sucked air in quickly, pinching his eyes closed.

“I never knew you to be so open to change.” Hermione muttered, her milky-white neck arched as her husband’s lips traveled over it.

“You never asked. I would like to hope you’re open as well.” Severus flipped the witch over by her waist, unfastening her bra. He stood, slipping off her knickers in one swift motion. Gripping her hips, Severus dragged Hermione to the edge of the bed. “Tell me if I go too far,” Severus whispered, leaning over her back to whisper in her ear.

As Hermione laid, her naked, porcelain body against the bed, she heard the sound before she felt it. Her right ass cheek burned, heat rushing to the spot where Severus’ hand at hit. Then, the left cheek. She couldn’t help but let out a small cry, her fingers balling the quilt in her palms.

“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you for leaving me last night?” Bending over the tiny witch once more, taking a handful of her frizzy hair with his hand. He pulled her head back, Hermione groaning with pleasure.

“No. I knew you would, one way or another… But I didn’t know it would be this fun.” She giggled, biting her lower lip. The witch flipped her head around, watching Severus as he resumed spanking her.

When he stopped, Hermione was sighing with pleasure, her eyebrows pushed together. She turned onto her back, sitting up. Severus ran a hand through his black hair, his forehead decorated with beads of sweat. The witch watched as Severus began to undress slowly. Hermione waited in agony for the reveal, his black boxer-briefs gripping his strong thighs. As he stepped out of his underwear, the witch felt her eyes flutter with desire. His strong cock stood outwards, hard and wide, free from the cloth restraint.

Hermione had wondered for weeks what his member would look like, and her eyes could not leave Severus’ wide girth as he stood before her. Leaning forward, the witch took it in her hand, stroking the length of his shaft. Tilting his head back, Severus place his hands on his hips, face bent with pleasure. Hermione then folded herself over to take him in her mouth, the salty taste of his cock filling her warm mouth.

Severus grunted and took a handful of Hermione’s hair. He pulled her back, her mouth still open as she was pushed back onto the bed. “Do you want this?” Severus asked heatedly, gripping his firm dick in his fist.

“Yes.” Hermione panted, hands clutching the quilt.

“Yes, _what?_ ” Severus raised an eyebrow, flipping his black hair from his face.

“Yes, _sir_.” She replied, swallowing as her eyes stared intensely at his.

As Hermione laid on her back, Severus slipped his hands between her knees, drawing his fingers up her thighs. She spread her legs, allowing him to crawl over her, his hands now running over her breasts. The erect pink nipples were pulled, Severus pinching them between his fingers. Hermione moaned, arching her back. She began to reach up, but her husband intercepted and slammed her hands back against the bed. Severus gripped her wrists tightly, holding her back from him. His lips nibbled on her ear lobe, Hermione breathing heavily.

With surprise, she felt him thrust inside her, filling her to the brim. Hermione let out a small whimper of pleasure, once again pushing herself off the bed with the curve of her back. Severus continued to thrust into her, the small witch now positioned with her legs wrapped around his body.

Hermione flipped the pair over, pulling Severus to sit on his knees, the witch climbing back on top of him. She had her arms around his neck, riding his hard, throbbing cock. His deep guttural moans nearly sent her over the edge, his eyes flashing open to meet hers. Severus’ black orbs stared deeply into Hermione’s warm, honey eyes, his hands spread wide to grip her round ass. She rode him, her legs locking their bodies together, both climaxing in ecstasy. In that moment, Severus knew that Hermione was his and his alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm assuming this is what all of you were looking forward to? Kind of a surprise, right? They do say that the best part about fighting in a relationship is the make-up sex. ;)


	20. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief update, but it all needed to be said.

Hermione awoke long before Severus did, careful to climb out of bed as to not wake her sleeping husband. She went to the wardrobe and selected one of his white shirts, pulling it on. As she left the bedroom, the witch buttoned it enough to reveal a small amount of cleavage. Hermione pulled up her hair, forming a haphazard, messy bun on top of her head. She was going to get breakfast for her husband, and bring it to him in bed. 

In all her years, Hermione had never had this opportunity. She’d never felt this way about any man. Her heart leapt when she thought of him, and she felt her palms sweat when he was near. Even with Ron, Hermione had not known this kind of powerful attraction. When she summoned the house elf, the witch ordered a spread of eggs, bacon, hot tea, and fresh fruit. As far as she knew, Severus would be pleased with her choice. When the stout house elf returned, he brought two trays of food, one for Severus, and one for Hermione. 

She took them with excitement, making her way up into the bedroom. Severus was sitting up in bed, reading with the light pouring in from the bay window. Hermione smiled up at him, carefully moving to set down her tray on the window seat. “I’ve gotten us breakfast.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Severus uttered, his eyes never straying from the book in his hands. 

“You should eat.” Hermione said, resting his tray on the foot of the bed. She raised her eyebrows in excitement, smiling uncomfortably. 

“No, thank you.” He finally glanced up at her, his face flat. 

Where had her Severus gone? 

“Severus? What’s the matter?” 

“We can’t do this. It’s not going to work.” 

Her heart sank and Hermione reached to grab ahold of the poster at the corner of the bed. She held onto it for strength, pain in her chest. 

“We agreed. Is it because of the sex last night?” 

“It’s a multitude of things.” 

“Don’t push me away. Don’t.” She felt tears forming in her eyes. Hermione used wandless magic to move the breakfast tray from the bed. She crawled on the bed, moving to nestle up between Severus’ legs. He closed the book with one hand, sighing heavily. 

“I don’t want your affections to continue to grow for me,” He confessed soberly. “If our plan to find a cure fails, I do not want you to mourn my death.” 

“I’m a grown woman. I can choose who to give my affections to. Don’t push me away because you want to protect me.” Hermione reached her hand reaching up to rest on Severus’ cheek. He turned his face away from her, reaching up to gently move her hand from his skin. “You always do this. One step forward, two steps back. Always keeping me at arms length... Am I not good enough for you?” She questioned, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“No,” Severus started, turning back towards her. “You’re too good for me. That’s why this cannot be. It was never supposed to be like this.” 

“I love you, Severus!” Hermione cried, her face contorted as she held back tears. 

“No. You do not.” 

“Yes! I do! I love you!” She replied, watching her husband stand up from the bed, naked before her. 

“No! Stop.” He shook his head, the shoulder-length black hair floating back and forth in the air. Hermione stood as well, moving over to press her chest against his back, wrapping her arms around his front. 

“I love you, Severus Tobias Snape. I love you with every bone in my body. More than I’ve loved anyone else. And you cannot tell me no, because you cannot know what I’m feeling.” 

“Please,” he begged, leaning his head forward as he felt tears spring in his eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“That’s for me to decide. I’ve been here all along. I’m going to be with you through it all. So stop being ridiculous!” She whispered against his skin, slinking under his arm to press her chest against his. “I know you cannot love me back, but let me love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“What?” Hermione questioned, backing up to look up into Severus’ face. 

“I love you.” Severus outstretched his hands, taking her face between them. He stared deeply into her eyes, his heart swelling. “I’ve loved you for awhile now… Since I saw you look at James, when I held him in my arms. That’s when I knew for certain.” 

“I never thought I’d hear you say those words...” she whispered, her hands gripping his bare forearms. 

"Never did I think I would say them... Let alone say them to you." 

"Are you sure you mean it?" 

"Don't be daft. I say nothing without full intention." Severus replied. Hermione smiled softly up at her husband, relief washing over her. He loved her! Severus loved her back!

“Are you wearing my shirt?” Severus asked, dropping his hands to her shoulders, examining her. Hermione blushed, squishing her face with embarrassment. 

“Yes… Is that alright?” 

“Are you wearing anything underneath?” 

“No…” 

“Then it’s quite alright.” Severus smirked, pulling the witch to his naked form, leaning over to kiss her hard on the lips.


	21. Twenty One

The weeks continued to race by, the seasons changing to a cold and icy December. Hermione and Severus spent a large majority of their free time in the potions classroom, working on finding a clue. As the time drew closer and closer to Christmas, Hermione found herself growing restless. It pained her to see Severus frustrated with the lack of results and the distress it caused him.

One December evening, Hermione left Severus in his study as she went to the library. As she crossed the threshold to the restricted section, she pulled any and every book she could think of related to potions and Nagini, including maledicti, snakes, basiliks, parseltongue, potions, potions ingredients, bezoars, and dittany. As she closed all of the books and let out a groan of frustration, Hermione closed her eyes. How was it possible that there was nothing she could find? There had to be a cure! It was nearly impossible for Severus to have even survived Nagini’s attack, therefore she knew she was missing something. She felt as if she did not have a purpose, and was only making matters worse. Hermione was most certainly not helping matters, except for Severus’ sexual needs. But still, she found herself at an impasse, unsure of how to proceed.

The witch began her descent back to her chambers, walking down a long corridor. It was well past dark and a low howl made its way from the bowels of the castle. Hermione stopped suddenly, a sour feeling that fell to rest in her stomach. Something had stopped her, but she did not know what... Turning, the wall that had been to her right had transformed, revealing a large door. The Room of Requirement had shown itself to her, and Hermione felt a smile wash over her face. Perhaps she would find her answer there. 

When she opened the doors, Hermione walked in to find the room empty. A single wide pillar held a large melting candle which gave a small area of light beneath it. There, in the center of the room, was a rectangular object covered in a dusty taupe sheet. Hermione approached cautiously, withdrawing her wand from a pocket in her skirt. She reached forward and tugged on the edge of the fabric and letting it fall to the floor. The Mirror of Erised presented itself to the witch with its shining frame and antiqued splotches scattered about. 

As Hermione stood before the mirror, she exhaled, her arms hanging down by her waist. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and then opened them to see the mirror reveal what she desired the most. Hermione stood, in an elegant knee-length dress. Her hair was pinned back to reveal wide-boxed shoulders on the dress. A pin was affixed to her chest, shining brightly. Hermione studied herself for a moment and then realized she was the Minister of Magic! How had the mirror known this was her greatest ambition? The mirror then began to swirl and another image appeared before her. Severus stood beside her, a short smile on his face. Hermione was looking up at him, her arm tucked around his waist. In her other arm was a bundle, presumably a baby. And at their feet, a little boy who stood proudly in a sweater and trousers. 

Tears sprung in her eyes as she looked at what Hermione knew she would never have. Severus did not truly want to be married to her--he valued his independence too much. As well, they would never be a family like that, with their smiling and happiness. A familiar soreness arose in her chest, Hermione fighting back a sob. She covered up the mirror with a flick of her wand, sitting on the cold stone floor with her legs crossed beneath her. Regardless of what her heart desired, Hermione knew that if she did not find the missing link to the cure, she would not have any part of Severus. 

When she entered the bedroom, Hermione began to undress and change into a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a long-sleeved henley shirt. Severus was in bed, reading with a candle glowing warmly beside him on the nightstand. He was shirtless, the coarse tufts of his silvery chest hair exposed above the quilt. The witch climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her, facing the wizard as she laid on her side. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Severus asked, closing his book to rest it on his chest. Hermione nodded, wondering if her eyes were still red from crying. 

“It was nice. I read quite a bit about the different healing potions ingredients, including the history on dittany.” 

“Dittany?” Severus asked, raising a brow in curiosity. 

“Oh, as if you’re reading something more interesting.” Hermione replied, smiling cheekily. She scooted herself so she laid against Severus, her left arm draping over his abdomen. As she laid her head on his chest, she felt his fingers begin to weave through her hair. 

“Actually, I’m reading a biography on Newt Scamander.” 

“Magical creatures? Anything good?” She asked, swirling her finger in Severus’ lower abdominal hair that led to his groin. 

“Indeed. Quite a lot… Mmm. Your hair smells good.” He uttered, using his fingers to comb the hair away from her face. 

“Roses, I think.” Hermione started, sitting up to turn and look at Severus. His eyes were starting to close, sleep tempting him. “Have you ever looked in the Mirror of Erised?” She asked at once. 

Severus’ eyes flashed open and he furrowed his brow in confusion at her. His left hand was resting on her lower back, his fingers spread wide. “Once.” 

“Did you see… Did you see Lily?” 

“I saw myself with Lily, yes.” His eyes fell away from her, his mind wandering. “Why do you ask?” Severus turned his face back towards Hermione. 

“The Room of Requirement presented itself to me. And the Mirror of Erised was there.” 

“What did you see?” Severus asked, moving his hand up and down her back softly. 

“Myself as Minister of Magic.” Hermione grinned brightly, reaching up to take her hair and pile it into a bun on the top of her head. 

“No doubt you will achieve that.” 

“Hmm. I don’t know,” She felt discouraged knowing that one of her biggest aspirations may never come to pass. “I worry I won’t amount to anything.” 

“If you don’t amount to anything, you’ll still be mine,” Severus replied, sitting up to kiss her gently. Their lips held together for a brief moment as he slipped back to lay down. “And that’s the biggest achievement to me.” 

Hermione felt herself glow, radiating with warmth from within. Severus called her his… That was not something she had expected--his pride about being associated with the witch. However, there were many parts about Severus and their relationship that Hermione had not expected. 

 

The next evening, Hermione was busy studying once again in the library. After hitting yet another dead end, she decided to call it a night. As she put away the books, Hermione caught a glimpse of Viktor Krum at a table, his nose in a book. When she saw him, she was hit with an idea that seemed to catch fire within her. With promptness, Hermione made her way over to Viktor, sitting beside him. 

“I need your help,” she began, proceeding to explain to Viktor the situation at hand. Severus was going to be furious if he found out she was telling Viktor all of this--but it was for his benefit! She was trying to save him. 

“Wow… So, how do you think I can help?” 

“The shaman you studied beneath… Do you think he would be open to helping Severus and I? We would only have a few questions. We would not require anymore from him.” 

“I’m still in contact with him, so I could owl him and ask.” 

“Oh Viktor, that would be wonderful. I’m just not sure where to start... I’ve been in the library, as well as spent countless hours with Severus trying to find an ingredient or a clue that would guide me. But, nothing! I’m scared.” Hermione confessed, looking into Viktor’s golden-yellow eyes. 

“Don’t be scared. I’ll help anyway you need. I will write him as soon as possible.” 

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much Viktor.” 

“And… Erm, Hermione?” Viktor started, inhaling. “I am very sorry about what happened between us. I misunderstood and treated you terribly. I will be nothing but the… perfect gentleman to you from now on.” 

“Oh, Viktor. I’m sorry that things didn’t work out like you wanted them to. Also… The duel. I apologize for how I treated you during it.” 

“You were excellent… Perhaps next term we could try it again. Except, perhaps we should omit the revenge and hard feelings?” Viktor chuckled and reached out to take ahold of Hermione’s hand. She blushed and reached forward to embrace him in a warm hug. 

“Do you have nothing better to do with your time than torture my wife with your presence?” A voice spat. Hermione and Viktor both turned to face the door, Severus standing widely before the threshold. He shook his head in disappointment, flinging his robes around him as he left the library. Hermione apologized to Viktor, scrambling to race after her husband. 

“Severus, stop! You’re being ridiculous!” She shouted after him in the empty corridor, her voice carrying.

“Overreacting? I watched as you and Viktor embraced... Your heads close. If I had not intervened, what would have happened?” 

Hermione scowled at Severus, shaking her head with frustration. “What you saw was nothing more than a platonic goodbye. I cannot believe you still don’t trust me.” 

“If it had been me… With another woman, what would you believe?” 

“I would fucking trust you!” Hermione shouted in reply, throwing her hands outward. “All I was doing was talking to Viktor about Hong Kong, and seeing if perhaps there was a way he could help us. I told him about our dilemma and asked if there was anyway he felt going there would help.” 

“You told him?” Severus bent his brow downward, hurt. 

“I felt compelled to. But, I think what he gave me is the start to finding the answer. I’m going to Hong Kong.” 

“Hong Kong? What the fuck is in Hong Kong?” 

“A shaman that may be able to point us in the right direction. Viktor studied with him for awhile, and I thought he would be a good place to start. Perhaps he would know an ingredient that we don’t have on hand here.” 

“I doubt that.” Severus huffed as he raced through the castle in front of her. It would have been ten times easier if their conversation had been in a stationary position, rather than while they were traveling. 

“I love you. And I’ll do practically anything to keep you alive, including going all over the world to find one ingredient. So, you can either stop being a prick and go with me, or stay here alone.” 

“When are you leaving?” His voice became soft with concern.

“As soon as I get word from Viktor that the shaman has agreed to meet with us.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Severus scoffed, jutting out his jaw. 

“Please, calm down. Try to understand it.” Hermione urged, just as they were about reach their chambers. Severus clambered in, taking his robe and tossing it over the edge of the sofa. 

“I’m angry.” He stated shortly, turning to stomp one boot on the stone floor. 

“I can see that.” 

“I’m trying… I’m trying to understand. We had negotiated and agreed on terms a few weeks ago. But it’s very hard to trust you when… When I see him touching you like that.” 

“That’s understandable. But perhaps you should direct your anger towards something else, besides me? From the very start, I have done nothing but try to help you. And now, it’s my only focus.” 

“My anger was never directed towards you. It’s always been at Krum. That snide, sneaking little…” 

“Severus!” Hermione interjected, reaching her hand to rest against Severus’ chest. He exhaled, his entire body relaxing. His eyes fell and he moved as to bring her small body against his. 

“I can’t help it. I don’t want anyone touching, looking… Anything at you. You. Are. Mine.” He uttered, squeezing her. 

“So… Will you go?” Hermione asked, her voice muffled against his black jacket. Severus let out a defeated moan. 

“Very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What can I say except, you're welcome?" 
> 
> More answers! Whoo!
> 
> Oh, and some fluff, too.


	22. Twenty Two

Severus Snape sat across from his wife, Hermione, at their long, narrow dining table. He was taking small bites of sausage, while she sipped on a cup of coffee. The day was still young, the room a cool white from the snow swirling around outside of their chambers.

“Are you not hungry?” Severus questioned, furrowing his brow.

“Not really. Just nervous,” she mumbled. Her eyes were cast downward, her thoughts elsewhere. 

“Nervous about leaving?” 

“About a lot of things. Leaving the country and not giving notice to the Ministry, for one.” 

“What other choice do we have?” He groaned, tired of hearing her worry about the bloody Ministry of Magic. 

“Just tell them! They would make an exception for us, Severus.” 

“Why didn’t I think of that in the first place!?” His voice was rich with sarcasm and Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat down her mug. 

“It’s such a ridiculous rule… Not able to leave the country without prior approval,” She huffed, crossing her arms. The witch wore a black sweater over a pair of gray lounge pants. “All because they want us to have a baby…” 

“What about… A muggle airplane?” 

Hermione reeled backwards, her face “You want… You want to fly to Hong Kong?” 

“It would allow us to leave without being detected. No magic, nothing to alert the Ministry.” Severus shrugged his shoulder at this suggestion. 

Hermione exhaled, thinking on her husband’s words. Outside of their chambers, snow swirled in the air, a blizzard bearing down upon the castle. The witch pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head slightly. 

“Alright. I’ll book the flights, then.” Hermione replied, exhaling heavily. What a foolish idea, the entire scheme. Leaving the country without the Ministry’s permission, forgoing magic to remain undetected… To Hermione, it was all a disaster waiting to happen. 

“We leave Christmas night, yes?” Severus questioned, raising one eyebrow as he picked up the Daily Prophet from the table in front of him. 

“Yes. That’s what we agreed upon,” Hermione started, moving from the table to stand. “I’m going to Ginny’s.” 

“Say nothing.” Severus flipped his gaze up to her, his head remaining forward. 

“Not a word, I promise.” The witch whispered, walking around the table towards their bedroom. Severus caught her wrist, pulling Hermione back to him. His fingers clung to her skin, gently urging her to lean over. She obliged, feeling his hot breath against her cheek. His lips traced the shadow before her ear, pressing softly. 

Hermione straightened, her hand free from her husband’s embrace, and she made her way up the stairs into their bedroom. She changed quickly, wearing a pair of brown knee-high boots, slim denim pants, and the same black sweater as from breakfast. The witch made her way into the bathroom in search of a hair tie and stood before the mirror, her hands gripping the edge of the sink. 

She hardly recognized herself as she looked upon her reflection in the mirror. Something was different; she was changed. But what was it? Hermione could not put her finger on it. Kneeling, she opened the cabinet to look for a hair elastic. As she pulled various boxes out, she gripped a box of tampons and froze. 

Her period. When was the last time she had it? Gods… It had to have been weeks ago. Oh, Merlin. No. No. No, she thought. 

Hermione swallowed heavily, gripping the counter’s edge to stabilize her. A knock on the door broke through her panicked state.

“Everything alright?” She heard Severus ask. 

“Quite alright. I’ll be out in just a second!” Hermione replied, shoving the box of tampons and other containers back into the cabinet. She stood and straightened her sweater. “Come in,” She stated. 

Severus entered, running a wide hand through his thick hair. He stood over the sink and picked up his toothbrush, squirting a small amount of toothpaste onto the bristles. Hermione’s eyes darted about nervously. 

“Well, I’m off. See you in a bit.” Hermione grinned, leaning on the tips of her toes to kiss Severus’ cheek. 

“Mmm,” He moaned, the end of the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. 

 

Minutes later, Hermione stood in the living room of the Potter’s townhome as Ginny Weasley-Potter rocked James in her arms. She was cuddled beneath a thick blanket on the worn maroon sofa, a bright smile spread across her face.

“I’m so glad you could come. I know you and Severus are busy with the end of term, but I wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas.” 

Hermione warmed, moving to sit on the sofa beside her friend. 

“Gin, how did you know you were pregnant?” 

“Well… I realized that I had missed my period, and my breasts were so sore and swollen. So, I went to one of the potions stores on Diagon Alley, and purchased Dandelion leaves.” James began to stretch out his arms, grimacing. “Why…?” Ginny asked suspiciously.

“I’m three weeks late…”

“Have you tested any Dandelion leaves?” 

“No. I’ve just calculated it this morning. Honestly, with everything going on, my cycle’s been the last thing on my mind.”

“What’s going on?” 

Hermione felt her cheeks burn red--how was she going to lie to Ginny? 

It’s for their safety, Hermione thought. She knew that if she told them, Harry, Ginny and James would be at risk. 

“Just Severus… Being Severus. Difficult, as always.” 

“Aha, yes.” Ginny chortled, now drawing circles on James’ back with her middle finger. 

Hermione studied the pair, imagining herself in less than a years’ time with a newborn herself. The thought terrified her, realizing that she was not prepared whatsoever to be a mother. But, Ginny looked happy and content. 

“I’m frightened,” Hermione whispered, choking back tears that had surprised her. 

“Everything will work itself out,” Ginny replied, reaching her free hand to rest on Hermione’s thigh. “Severus will be an excellent father… You’ll see. The joy a child brings, oh, you can’t even imagine it.” 

“I certainly hope so.” Hermione replied, standing. 

“It will be the happiest moment of your entire lives.” 

Would she and Severus even survive this? What if Hong Kong held more challenges than Hermione expected? Fear rattled within her, Hermione’s hands shaking. The baby did not matter… All that mattered was Severus.

“I love you, Gin.” Hermione leaned over and pulled her dearest friend into a tight hug. 

“You act like you’re leaving for a long time,” Ginny uttered with concern. 

“With my schedule, it could be. But who knows?” Hermione replied, smiling stiffly. 

 

That evening, Hermione was in bed before Severus, lying on her side with a book in her grip. All day, her thoughts wandered back to the conversation she’d had with Ginny. Perhaps her friend at had been correct… Severus would be happy with the arrival of their baby and all would be well. However, if Severus did not survive, there would be no happiness for any of them. Could Hermione even continue on with this pregnancy? This thought pained her, the idea that she would even have to consider the possibility of raising a child alone.

“You’re deep in thought,” Severus whispered, slipping beneath the covers to lay his body against Hermione’s. The curves of his form filled hers, his hand reaching around to rest on her abdomen. “What are you thinking?” 

Panic erupted in her. Severus was an accomplished legilimens, and she was thinking about secrets he could not be part of yet. 

“How many books I can pack for when we leave.” Hermione replied, a lie. She was breaking a promise they had agreed upon. No lies. Be honest and open. Trustworthy. However, this was to protect him. Hermione cared about Severus and Severus alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist! 
> 
> Don't you just love those? 
> 
> There's more, don't worry.


	23. Twenty Three

Christmas was coming to an end, the air thick with anxiety and fear in the Snape’s chambers. Hermione had spent the day packing, reminiscing on the time she had agonized over which books to bring when her friends were going hunting for Horcruxes. Sorrow filled her, and she bit her lip to hold back tears. It was a painful reminder of all she had endured over the last few years. Severus entered their bedroom, his arms full with a crate of his potions vials. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow and his wife found her eyes drawn to the protruding veins, like road maps on his skin.

“How much more do you have?” He asked her, carefully sitting the crate in his trunk, just adjacent to hers.

“Not too much. I need to pack a few pairs of knickers, sweaters, and my old hiking boots.”

“Hiking boots?” Severus asked, peering over at her with question.

“Did you think we were going to float everywhere? I don’t doubt we’ll be on the run once the ministry catches wind of us leaving the country.” Hermione replied, pushing herself up off of the floor. Severus had sat down on the edge of the bed, peeling off his socks and boots.

“What makes you think they’ll find out?”

“You of all people know that I should prepare for the worst, Severus.”

Hermione crawled onto the bed and sat behind her husband, moving her arms to slip around his torso. She squeezed gently, pulling herself to him. The witch planted a gentle kiss at the base of his neck. Severus let out a soft sigh, hunching forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Are you absolutely certain that this is the right thing to do?” She heard him say soft and hesitant. Hermione slipped away to sit beside him on the bed, smoothing the thick black hair from his face.

“I’m only certain of one thing… I’ll do _anything_ to find that cure.”

“Very well, then.” Severus replied, standing. He made his way over to the wardrobe, undressing. Changing, he pulled on a pair of khaki brown cargo pants and a white short-sleeved undershirt. As he began to pull on a black button-up shirt, Severus paused and let out a heavy sigh. “But honestly… Did you _really_ have to pick out such terrible clothing?

“It’s our best cover. Without magic, we’ll have to disguise ourselves to the best of our ability. Haven’t you ever gone back-packing?” Hermione questioned, stifling her laughter. The clothes she had purchased for them were nothing more than outdoorsy muggle gear. Severus stood, his face turned downward in displeasure, finishing the top button of his shirt.

“Backpacking? What is that?”

“Like, erm… Hiking? Camping? Going outdoors and traveled on foot?”

“Why would someone travel on foot when there’s the help of magic?” Severus questioned, scoffing as he moved over to sit on the top of the trunk to pull on a pair of thick socks and new ankle-high hiking boots.

“My parents, who are muggles, took me all the time. We spent summers backpacking… That’s how I knew about the Forest of Dean.”

“And you believe that if the Ministry sends the Aurors after us, that they won’t recognize us if we’re wearing _this_?” Severus questioned, undoing the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up towards his elbows.

“That, and with the assistance of a glamour charm.” She shrugged her shoulder, smirking. Hermione extended her arm to point her wand at Severus. Casting the spell, she was surprised at her work. Severus scowled at his wife, perched on the end of the bed.

“You’d have better not made me look ridiculous, or I’ll--” He stopped, turning to look in the mirror attached to the inside of the wardrobe.

Severus’ hair was much shorter, cut in smooth waves that hung over his ears. It rested back over his scalp, and one thick section fell to cover part of his forehead. Hermione grinned, biting her lip as she watched him study himself. Her husband lifted his elongated fingers to fiddle with the hair, flipping the part from side to side.

“Oh, wait. I’m not quite finished.” With the flick of her wrist, Severus Snape grew a thick beard and his hair faded, silvery streaks dashing through his locks, aging him significantly.

“ _I. Will. Not. Look. Old. Enough. To. Be. Your. Father._ ” Severus uttered, his hands balling into fists as he spun around to narrow his eyes at Hermione.

Her eyes darted about the room and she stifled her laughter. “Actually, I quite like it. I don’t even recognize you. Now… It’s only fair if you disguise me.”

“Oh… _That’s right._ ” Severus smiled, his silky voice letting the words slip out like caramel. Hermione sat up, her legs folded beneath her. As her husband straightened his arm, she felt her palms dampen in anxiousness.

To her surprise, it was neither. Hermione reached up and felt for her hair and gasped. It was gone! Or at least, the majority of it. He’d lopped it off! The witch flew off the bed, hurrying to stand in front of the mirror. Her hair trimmed short, it was choppy and was parted to that it swept over one part of her forehead. Hermione flipped around, her eyes wild with anger and her nostrils flared.

“ _I look like a boy! Change me back!_ ” She roared, jumping at her husband. He crossed her arms, concealing his wand and raising his chin in superiority. “ _Severus Tobias Snape!_ ”

“No. You aren’t recognizable, and that’s what we’re needing.”

“At least you look handsome. I look as if I haven’t even started puberty!” Hermione exclaimed, moving over to the bed. She began to pat her hands over the surface frantically, feeling for her wand.

“Right… You do look as if you could be my child.” Severus hummed for a brief moment and exhaled. “That won’t do. Stay still,” he ordered. The witch nodded her head and leaned against the end of the bed, her arms down at her sides.

Hermione’s hair then grew, climbing down over her ears, neck, and shoulders to finally stop in the middle of her back. The witch reached behind to feel, pulling the long hair up and over her shoulder. The deep chocolate brown hair was straight and silky, Hermione’s eyes wide with joy as she petted it.

“Much better,” She oozed, smiling up at her husband. “ _Now_ I look like your wife.”

“You most certainly do.” Severus replied, noticing the way the change of hair color brought out the warm golden tones in her eyes, the freckles scattered about her cheeks more prominent. “But there’s one more thing I’d like to do.”

Now, Hermione’s chest began to expand, her breasts growing outwards. With shock, she looked at Severus in bewilderment.

“Are you mad!? I look like a pornographic film star!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms over her large breasts.

“I quite like them.” He whispered, his eyes never straying.

“I think these were for your own selfish gain… Don’t you like mine the way they are?” Hermione questioned, her voice low.

“How did I know you were going to ask that?” Severus rolled his eyes and pointed his wand down at his groin. Hermione’s eyes widened when she realized what her husband was doing.

“Oh my. That’s more than fair.” She replied, biting her lip.

Severus grinned at his wife, stepping close to place his hand on her lower back. “These adjustments should benefit us both.”

His lips caressed her neck, which was now curved to expose her soft, pale skin. She slipped her hand around his back, her fingers spread between his shoulder blades.

“We don’t have time for this… As much I’d like to.” Hermione stated, straightening and moving around Severus. Her husband huffed, his strong hand bracing himself against the bedpost.

Hermione sat on the floor beside her trunk to finish the final stages of packing. Once more, she played with the hair and brushed it over her shoulder. In her mind, she wondered if their glamour charms would work and allow them to sneak in and out without the Ministry’s notification. She sat on the floor, folding her knickers and putting them in the top of the trunk, along with a sweater and a pair of her old hiking boots.

“What if we fail in finding a cure?” Hermione asked softly, peering over at husband who had finished securing his trunk and changing it to appear as a duffel bag.

“We’ll have had an adventure.” Severus replied.

 

When the arrived at the airport that night, it was bustling with holiday travelers, all whom were determined to get home. Hermione and Severus had used a portkey to arrive at Heathrow, landing roughly in one of their dimly-lit parking lots. Hermione had removed their passports, gripping them carefully as pulled her trunk-turned-hiking backpack onto her shoulder. Severus hovered behind her nervously.

“Now, they have wands that they use to search us? Magic?” Severus questioned, stepping up onto the curb to watch their taxi race off.

“Not magic. They use metal-detectors. To search for weapons,” she whispered, pulling her long braid from beneath the backpack strap.

“Weapons? Why would someone bring that to an…”

“Airport.” Hermione finished his sentence, pushing through the revolving doors of Heathrow’s entrance.

She stopped on the tile, turning back to glance at Severus. His face was flat, his eyes narrowed. Her husband appeared to be bitter, but Hermione knew that deep down, he was terrified. If they failed on this journey, where would it leave them? In a forced marriage, a possible baby, and eventually a dead husband. Determination drove the thoughts from Hermione’s head. The witch reached her hand back and wrapped it around Severus’. He broke free from his mind, his eyes looking down upon her. A weak smile emerged on his lips and they continued through the airport.

Hermione slipped her free hand in the pocket of her jacket, feeling her wand. This gave her comfort, knowing that at any time, she could break free from her muggle disguise to protect Severus. And the baby. If there even was a baby, she thought. The pair made their way through the late night Christmas crowd, entering the long line to the security checkpoint.

“Passports and tickets ready, please! Shoes off, belts in the cubby!” One security guard shouted through the crowd. Severus gave her hand a soft squeeze and then released it as Hermione stepped in front of him in the single-file line.

After passing successfully through security, the witch waited anxiously for Severus. He followed the security guard’s gesture, waving him forward. Severus passed beneath the tall overhanging metal detector, letting out a sigh of relief as they ushered him on. Hermione greeted him warmly as they picked up their bags and traveled down past shops.

“I’m going to the restroom before we get on.” Severus announced, running his fingers through his thick gray waves. Hermione let out a sigh, glancing about.

She stepped into a shop, hoping to find a bottle of water. Hermione felt her throat grow dry as she opened the small refrigerator door to select a half liter of cold water. As she turned around, her stomach dropped. A muggle pregnancy test hung in a plastic-wrapped package directly in front of her. Without thinking, she purchased them both, and stepped around the corner.

Severus stood at the end of the hall that lead to the bathroom, his duffel firmly in his grip. “What’d you find?” He questioned.

“Just a bottle of water. I’m going to the loo before we board.” Hermione stated, hurrying down the hall.

Once she was in the bathroom, she hurried into a stall to squat over the toilet, the pregnancy test stuck between her legs. She pulled it back out and shook it, finishing. Hermione stood and waited. Anxiety filled her, nausea sweeping through her body. She flung her backpack over her shoulder and froze, glancing down at the pregnancy test in her hand.

Please be negative, please be negative, please be negative, she thought.

But alas, it was positive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy whatever you celebrate, or don't! I couldn't wait to finish this chapter. In the next, Hermione and Severus will start their journey in Hong Kong. Let's hope it works out for them.


	24. Twenty Four

Hong Kong bustled around them, the early morning sunlight filtered by the haze of the city. Hermione and Severus carried their bags, standing at the curb to wave down a taxi. Hermione studied the skyline before her, awed at the glimmering lights hidden behind the smog. Severus held his leather duffel at his side, reaching out one arm to wave at the passing cars. 

The witch blinked slowly, shaking the sleep from her eyes. Exhaustion had overwhelmed her, a cause Hermione was not sure of. Pregnancy, the stress of traveling, or perhaps, both? She watched as Severus beckoned her to the door of a taxi, opening it for his wife. As they moved into the backseat, Hermione and Severus were bunched together uncomfortably. His knees were pressed against the back of the passenger seat, the top of his head grazing the roof of the vehicle. 

“Where to?” The driver asked, turning around so that he could face both Hermione and Severus. She peered up at him through her messy, long hair that had fallen down to curtain her face. 

“Aberdeen, please.” 

“Going to Lamma Island?” 

The witch nodded, pressing the hiking backpack between her legs as she glanced up at Severus. He had his elbow resting against the window ledge, his head propped in his palm. 

“Hiking. Our honeymoon.” She leaned her head over on his shoulder and grinned back at the man. 

“Congratulations!” 

Cars honked around them, the air thick with pollution and voices of excitement. The driver turned to face forward, putting the car into drive and racing out of the line of parked cars. 

Sitting back up straight, Hermione slipped her hand over and gently caressed Severus’ knee. He turned his head downwards and slipped her a tight smile, the corners of his eyes wrinkling slightly. 

“How did you find the flight?” he asked her softly. 

“It was fine. I’m just exhausted. As soon as we get where we need to, I’d like to go to a hotel and rest,” she replied. Straightening, she let out a long sigh. Severus repositioned himself to face her straight on, sweeping the hair from her face. 

“Are you ill?” 

Hesitation filled her, Hermione’s eyes wide as she held back the words she so desperately wanted to let out. “Just tired, I think.” 

With his brow furrowed, Severus waited a few moments for Hermione to finish her sentence. To his surprise, she did not continue speaking, but instead laid her head back and closed her eyes. What was she getting at? Rarely did his wife complain of being tired, or run down. Perhaps she was getting ill. Severus felt himself growing frustrated at the thought of Hermione keeping something from him. Even if it was a silly little head cold, or something. 

The taxi drove them further into the heart of Hong Kong, swerving through multiple lanes of traffic. Through the morning drive, he studied the massive greenery surrounding the stark, cloud-brushing skyline. Never, in all his years, did Severus Snape ever believe he would be travelling to Hong Kong. Even so, going to Hong Kong for the intent that he was. Glancing back down at his sleeping wife, Severus studied her in disbelief. 

Hermione Granger, now Hermione Snape, his wife. A woman who had shown her true colors: A fiery crimson when she fought for what she was passionate about, an icy arctic blue when she was holding back her angry words. Despite all her colors, Severus held his favorite at the very front of his mind. Her soft, ballet slipper pink. Hermione, a sweet, loving woman. One who had sacrificed so much for him.   
Guilt filled him, brimming Severus with a sick feeling that nestled deep in his abdomen. They’d come all the way to Hong fucking Kong, and he might still die anyway. What a massive waste!, he thought. But then, what if they did? A cure. A fire stirred inside him. He would not leave the island without the answer. 

Nearly an hour later, the taxi stopped abruptly, pulling up to a curb parallel to a busy sidewalk. Next to the car was a widely spread fish market, bustling with customers and salespeople. Severus roused Hermione from her sleeping state, the witch lifting her head up and closing her mouth. He grabbed ahold of the duffel between his legs, and Hermione did the same.

The taxi driver turned to them, his hand remaining on the wheel. “504 dollars.” 

“Keep the change.” Hermione had unzipped her backpack, reaching into a hidden pocket to use a bit of magic and convert her British muggle currency to the Hong Kong dollar. 

The driver accepted it graciously, nodding his head at them and smiled. “Have a nice vacation!” 

As the couple crawled out of the backseat of the car, the overwhelming scent of the bay filled their nostrils. Hermione gagged, covering her mouth. The fish market had overpowered her, nausea sweeping through her. Oh Merlin, was she going to be sick? She felt the bile rise in the back of her throat, and she dropped her bag suddenly to race towards a street light. Leaning against the pole, Hermione hunched over and began to heave. There was nothing that emptied out of her, but the sickening, icy feeling continued to roll through her. 

At once, her hair was swept backwards from her face, strong hands clutching her long locks in a ponytail. Hermione closed her eyes for another moment, and stood up straight. She turned around and plunged right into Severus’ chest, her arms reaching around his torso to cling to him. 

“I think you’re ill… Once we find the shaman, I can brew you a potion that’ll help.” he uttered, leaning over slightly to rest his chin on the crown of her head. 

“Honestly, it’s just nerves. Let’s get on the ferry and get to the Island. The quicker we get there, the quicker we can get an answer.”   
Once on the ferry from Aberdeen, the couple stood at the front of the large ship, surrounded by muggle cars and the chilly morning air. Hermione’s hair was whipping about in the wind just as Severus was turning up the collar of his wool coat that he had pulled from a compartment in his duffel. 

Hermione felt propelled to tell Severus about the pregnancy. If she didn’t and they left Hong Kong empty-handed from the Shaman, she would never forgive herself. On the other hand, she found herself angry at the thought of telling him and with the answer being found, Severus would leave to fulfill his dreams alone. She was damned either way... Might as well be honest, she thought. It was one of her biggest rules in their new relationship terms. 

“I am ill, but not in the way you think.” Hermione began, her voice low. As her hands gripped the chilled railing of the ferry, she let her eyes lift to meet Severus’. “I didn’t want to tell you until after we’d seen the shaman, but I can’t wait. The uncertainty of it all… I just, I have to. Severus, I’m pregnant.” 

His mouth opened ever-so slightly, his dark eyes opening wider with the realization. Severus squeezed the railing, his jaw clenched. “How long?” 

“I think only a few weeks. I’ve not even been to a healer or even Madam Pomfrey. I… I took a muggle pregnancy test in the airport. Plus, I’d missed my period.” 

The honesty felt like a breath of fresh air to Hermione, both her shoulders and her conscience lighter. But Severus appeared to have taken on the burden of this. Had she just given him another worry, another fear? 

“Thank you for telling me.” 

That was all he said. Nothing else? Hermione let her eyes rest on his face a moment longer, and then they fell to study the choppy waves of the bay. 

“Will you be happy?” she asked softly, speaking with just enough volume that Severus could barely hear. 

“You care about my happiness right now? Perhaps we should concern ourselves with the fact that if we don’t find the cure, I will not live to see the day when my child is born.” he uttered, exhaling heavily. 

Hermione nodded her head while she bit her lip to fight back tears. The baby, the small tiny bean growing inside of her, was insignificant. It didn’t matter to him. Not right now. And perhaps, it wouldn’t ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it only took me a month to get over my writers' block. I kid you not, every time I would sit down to work on this fic, I would get frustrated. Nothing seemed to sound right. No idea was good enough to put down in words. It was so frustrating. And someway... Somehow, today, I was finally able to piece together a few sentences and continue to build the plot for you. I hope you love it. There'll be more soon, now that I'm over this hump!
> 
> XX, Wren


	25. Twenty Five

When they exited the ferry and made their way down the comfortably busy streets of Sok Kwu Wan, Hermione and Severus found themselves drawn towards the inviting smell of one of the many seafood restaurants. In the shadow of the mountains adjacent to the town on the bay, an open seating area was nestled across from restaurant front. Colorful mismatched covers decorated numerous tables, locals gathered in close clusters to eat their food and enjoy each others’ company.

“Are you hungry? Or… Are you not? Perhaps you should eat something… For the… Um. Maybe something light?” Severus asked, timid and unsure.

Hermione let out a sigh and nodded her head with heavy eyes. “Just something fizzy and an order of prawns, please. I’ll get us a table,” she replied, taking the duffel from his hands. He turned and left to walk up to the counter shadowed under the colorful awning. The unsettled feeling in her abdomen had simmered down slightly, but the witch still felt the anxiety upon her shoulders. It wouldn’t be but less than an hour before they would be speaking with the shaman.

Severus returned balancing two plates on his palms, their drinks stuffed underneath his arms. When he sat the food down before her, Hermione grinned up at him, the rich smell of butter wafting up towards her. Before she could eat, the witch studied her husband, thinking back to how their relationship had been months prior. How was it possible, that they had been sitting across from each other, sharing a meal without even speaking? Now, the couple had their hands dirty with buttered prawns bought from a small harbour restaurant in China. Inwardly, the witch giggled at this thought. Severus Snape! Her husband. Former professor, former grouchy old git. Now, the father of her child.

“Once we finish, we’ll go directly to the safe house Viktor set up for us. We can devise a plan on where to go from there.” Hermione stated, opening the can of soda to take a long sip. The bubbling liquid tickled as it traveled down her throat, settling her stomach.

“You need to rest.” Severus said sternly.

“It’s too soon to start that. Besides, your rest is more important than mine. I’m quite alright,” she shot back, brow furrowed with disapproval at her husband’s over-protective comments.

To her left, Hermione caught sight of a couple of tourists. They stood, studying the menu, pointing at different dishes on the board. She wondered if they were on their honeymoon, just as Hermione had lied to the taxi driver earlier.. Wait--did this count as her honeymoon?, she thought. The woman leaned her head against her partner’s shoulder, her long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore a pair of black trousers, trainers and a simple white short-sleeved t-shirt. Her husband, as Hermione discerned from the wedding band on his left ring finger, wore a similar muggle outfit.

Severus glanced over at his wife, watching her take small sips of the soda. Her warm, honey eyes were affixed on a muggle couple placing their order at the window. He studied them for a brief moment as well, and then turned back to face Hermione when she began to speak.

“I would have liked to have a honeymoon,” she confessed, pushing her half-eaten prawns away.

“We could have one later… After we’ve gotten everything settled. We… We could go anywhere you want.” Severus stated, crumbling the paper napkin and dropping it on the top of his plate.

“It’d be hard with a baby,” she whispered, her eyes wandering down to the floor in disappointment.

“I agree. However, I do believe it could stay with the Potters.” He replied. At this, Hermione’s lips spread into a wide smile. Her eyes sparkled for a brief second and then she flipped her head back over to the couple.

Severus followed her gaze, watching the couple sit down in a table just a few spots away from them. The husband’s eyes met his and he felt his heart leap. Something about them wasn’t right. The wife turned her head and she looked deeply at Severus, and then over at Hermione.  
The couple was not an ordinary muggle pair… In fact, Severus didn’t think they were even muggles.

“We need to go,” Hermione said at once, standing from her spot at the table. She left her food, picking up her backpack and began to walk away. Severus followed her quickly, moving behind the woman to step out into the walkway.

Hurriedly, Hermione and Severus made their way down the street, pushing past more fisherman and merchants in the semi-crowded area. He used a charm to shrink his duffel, turning into a muggle wallet, and shoved into the back pocket of his hiking trousers. For something so hideous, Severus did have to admit that they were practical. Hermione flipped her head backwards to look behind them, and with relief turned back forwards. Just as Hermione rounded a corner to race down another street, she and her husband came to a halt.

Before them stood the couple, wands pointed at Severus and Hermione. They revealed badges that the Ministry of Magic had provided, flipping the covers back over and disappearing their grip. Aurors.

“Hand us your wands and no harm will come to you,” The woman stated firmly, her icy-blue eyes narrowed at Severus. He stiffened and his eyes fell over to his wife. He watched as Hermione lifted her chin, crossing her arms in defense.

“That won’t be possible,” Severus replied, his eyes shifting about to look for a quick escape. The only way to get out would be to disapparate, but in the events, it would be massively dangerous. If he attempted to disapparate off the island, he and Hermione would run the high risk of splinching. He had no idea the whereabouts of Viktor’s safe house. And, unfortunately, with Hermione, he knew that she could not disapparate to the safe house in the stressful situation they were involved in.

“None of this needs to be anymore difficult than you make it. We will go to our Portkey, which will take us all to the Ministry. There, we will have a conversation about the consequences of your leaving the country.” the male auror responded, reaching his hand out to grab ahold of Hermione’s forearm. Shaking his grip from her, Severus’ wife flared her nostrils and stepped closer to him.

“Don’t touch me!” She snapped, and then her face softened. Hermione attempted to appear saddened, but Severus could see her true feeling: anger. “None of this is right… And you know it. We’re just having a small holiday, and here you are, trying to ruin it,” she stated firmly, slipping behind Severus slightly to conceal her search in her jacket pocket. To the aurors, it would appear she was remorseful and seeking comfort in her husband. However, a second later, she withdrew her wand, holding it down behind her thigh. Hermione was not sad about protecting her husband and child.

“You know the rules, Mrs. Snape. Until you’ve fulfilled your duty to the Ministry, you are forbidden to leave the country.” The man replied, his facial expression an attempt at sympathy.

The witch was growing angry, her wand hand clenched into a fist. Severus could see her face redden, intent driving her next actions. Withdrawing her wand to point it at the building to their left, Hermione blasted a hole in the side.

Large chunks of cement and sheet metal flew at them and the witch took off, her hand reaching out to grab Severus’. They raced through the streets, their wand crossfire damaging buildings and surrounding structures. Hermione pulled on Severus’ hand, urging him to run faster as she continued to flip her head around to look back.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Severus shouted, his wand pointed back at the wizard chasing them. The auror’s wand flew up in the air and then clattered to the ground. Hermione took a sharp left, winding threw the village. Small houses in various states of disrepair blurred as they raced by.

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

It happened faster than either of the Snape’s had planned for. The female auror was standing in front of them, her wand pointed at Severus. He fell backwards, his body propelled by the spell hitting him in the middle of the chest. With his eyes closed, he plummeted into the muddy ground.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” Hermione cried out as she darted behind a merchant’s empty stand to hide from the aurors. Hermione knelt beneath the table, her wand at the ready.

“Take him!” She ordered, pointing her wand at Severus’ unconscious body. Hermione bit her lip, her chest heaving with each quickened breath she took. With frustration, she watched as the male auror used a spell to bind Severus’ hands together and began to levitate his unconscious body.

“ _Impedimenta!_ ” Hermione shouted, shooting herself out from beneath the table. The male auror seemed to freeze, his mouth and eyes wide with surprise. Severus fell back onto the ground, still not awake. She knew that the spell had been enough to render his weakened body unconscious, and she would need to revive him. “All I want his my husband. We’ll go back, please.”

“We have strict orders from the minister to bring you back in our custody. That is the consequence for breaking the law, Mrs. Snape.”

“Please!” Hermione cried out, pointing her wand at the aurors now standing before her. She had one hand on her husband’s chest, her wand hand shaking. Suddenly, a pain began to rip through her abdomen, causing her to fall to her knees. Hermione gasped, her arm losing strength as she struggled to point at the aurors.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

“ _Protego!_ ” Hermione blocked a spell one of the aurors cast, and watched the female’s eyes glow with rage as she attempted to move closer.

“Why do you continue to fight me? Surrender now!” she shouted at Hermione, storming forward.

Hermione was beyond angry, but the sharp pain ripping through her body was enough to make her want to surrender everything. “This is the stupidest fucking law, and you both know it! Azkaban? Wand revokement? All for another witch or wizard. You must both be afraid of the repercussions of not bringing Severus and I back, or else you wouldn’t be so concerned.”

Hermione attempted to stand, but the pain her belly was too much. The aurors breathed heavily, their wands pointed at Hermione and Severus. She was hunched over his body, her hand pressed against his chest. Blood had begun to trickle out of his nostrils and his ears. Exhaustion had consumed her now, her will to continue nearly gone.

“ _Locomotor Mortis...”_

Severus’ thick voice broke out, and before her eyes, Hermione watched the aurors drop to the ground with their arms and legs stiff as a board. Thank Merlin! Severus was not only alive, but he was able to help her. The pain was enough now to darken her vision; blood had begun to trickle down her legs. Clenching her eyes shut and thinking only of Viktor’s safe house, Hermione and Severus disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been the chapter I have struggled with writing for so long. And still, it hasn't turned out 100% the way I wanted it to. I'm sorry if it's not written very well! I tried my very best. But I do think it's exactly what is needed as a stepping stone for the next few chapters. Thanks for reading, and sticking with this fic. I appreciate your comments so much! (Honestly, they are the thing that inspires me the most to keep writing. If I didn't have such an incredible audience, I probably wouldn't be writing!)


	26. Twenty Six

The following few days were a blur; long, arduous hours filled with nervous pacing and then, silent waiting. Hermione was laid on her back in the middle of the simple double bed. Severus had folded her arms gracefully over her abdomen, a serene pose. His spot was warm beneath his seat, the worn armchair pressed close against the side of the mattress. It had been days, and still she had not woken. In the painfully long, drawn out time, he had agonized over the predicament at hand.

_The news._

The unspeakable, gut-wrenching, abhorrent _news_. She would go mad, he just knew it. Severus had given his little wife one thing to look forward to, a symbol of hope. To his immense and great disappointment, it had been snatched away from them both. Hermione might never be the same, now without answers and without the tiny beacon of light within her. With sadness, he turned slightly to shield her from his pained facial expression. Severus leaned back against the chair, resting one leg over the other, his fingers curled at his lips in silent contemplation.

________________________________________________________________________

After the battle between the aurors, Hermione and Severus had apparated to Viktor’s safe house, arriving in a bloodied heap on the rug in the front room. Hermione worked quickly to disrobe Severus and search his body for further wounds. To her surprise, she found only the scrapes and bruises from falling in the street after being struck with the spell. His hair, damp from the wet ground and matted from the mud, clung to his pale face. She brushed her bloodied palm over his forehead to clear it, wiping his nose to rid it of the blood. He began to cough, sputtering red-tinged fluid over them both. Hermione reached back into her bag for the third vial of potion, opening his mouth with a strong grip of his jaw. Her hands shook as she pressed it shut, praying that he swallowed. What seemed like an eternity later, the blood stopped seeping from his nose.

The scarlet mess had begun to pour out on the rug and dark wood floor, Hermione standing to go search for a towel. As she stood, she felt her legs give out beneath her, and she he turned on her back to glance at them, puzzled. Her hand felt along the floor beneath her, realizing she had slipped in a thick pool of blood. She climbed to her knees, searching her husband once again. Where was this blood coming from? Hermione used her strength to push on his legs and back, rolling Severus’ limp body onto his side. She examined him once more, but found no cause of the large amount of blood between them. As she turned him back, Hermione put her hands on her thighs.

Hermione held her hands up towards the light, dragging her fingers over her soaking palms. Oh. Oh, no. Her chest heaved in realization. It was hers; the blood was coming from inside of her own body. Lifting her hands up once again, the room before her began to spin, her vision blurring. Hermione climbed over Severus, rummaging through her backpack to withdraw an adrenaline-like potion, and the final blood-replenishing potion. She’d used all but one on him, and there was nothing else that could be done save her now. The damage was already done. Blackness had begun to creep over her, her palm clammy as she clutched the vials in her grip.

Hermione looked down at Severus, running her bloodied, moist hands over his face once more. She bent over and pressed her lips roughly against his, fighting back sobs. “Forgive me,” she whispered, her face glistened with tears and snot.

With shaking hands, she uncorked the two vials, pried Severus’ mouth open once more and poured the liquid down his throat. Hermione felt herself grow weak, an eternity stretched out before her as she waited for the results. Severus remained lifeless, his bruised, pale form exposed before her in the middle of the room.

That was all she remembered before Severus drained of color and everything went black.

 

When Severus emerged into consciousness, he was disoriented and shaking. He sat up quickly, as if he had been plunged into an icy bath. His eyes were wild as they looked about the room, searching for his wife. A strange sensation prompted him to look down and see Hermione’s limp hand on top of his. Her body was strewn across the floor, her faded pink lips parted slightly. Severus hurried, pulling on his pants, turning over to devote his attention to his wife.

He worked tirelessly to rectify the situation, but found that it was too far gone. Nothing could save the child, to his great disappointment and immense pain. Hermione’s chest moved with shallow breaths, Severus’ chest soaring with hope. He took her limp body in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom, a wide space at the end of the hall to his left. It was now nearing dawn, a soft pale blue light beginning to touch the floor. With gentle hands, Severus lowered his wife into the white porcelain claw foot bathtub, peeling the blood-stained clothes from her body.

She was ghostly white, her auburn hair appearing a chocolate brown in contrast to her pale complexion. Had she lost that much blood?, he thought. As he reached across the tub to turn on the water, Severus examined his wife’s body; dirt and blood was trapped beneath her growing fingernails and her altered breasts were shadowing her slightly swollen belly. Severus’s eyes fell away when he came to the realization that he would not see her grow with child. Perhaps not now, but possibly in the future, he hoped.

This thought stopped him, his arms resting down into the warm water of the bath. Did he actually want a child? Severus Snape, a father? This role was terrifying and foreign to him, something he had never planned for. Granted, he had never expected to have a wife, one other than Lily. Severus turned back to bath Hermione, lifting her arms delicately and scrubbing them deftly. The intimate moment he had longed for, snatched away by loss of their child. Severus had imagined bathing his wife, taking the time to massage her scalp, working his hands through her thick tendrils.

Severus crawled behind her in the tub, hurriedly cleaning himself and washing his wife’s crimson-colored back. With wandless magic, he altered both of their appearances back to how they had been before their journey. Before him, Hermione’s hair began to shrink, kinking into frizzy curls stopping between her shoulder blades. He reached up and felt his face, relishing in the feeling of his hair-free chin.

As he let the stained water drain, Severus lifted his naked wife from the tub. He carried her back through the house, entering the bedroom and rested her body in the center of the bed. It was an intricate four-poster rattan bed, sheer curtains tied to the posts. Severus pulled the white fabric around to cover them from the morning sunlight. He slipped between the covers, to wrap his arm around Hermione’s waist and pull her subtly round bottom against his groin. He held her close, warming her cool body with his own heat, kissing the base of her neck over and over again as he finally succumbed to sleep.

_______________________________________________________________________

 

Severus had not even realized that he had fallen asleep until he heard a rustling that awoke him. Sitting erect, he inhaled sharply when his eyes met his wife’s large, round honey iris’. She had pulled the covers back, smiling weakly up at him. In one swift movement, he moved from the chair and shot across the bed to pull his wife to his chest. His long fingers were spread at the back of her head, soft curls intertwined between his skin.

“I know,” she whispered into his chest, clad in a low-buttoned white linen shirt.

Severus pulled her away from him, holding her at arms’ length to furrow his brow in confusion. He shifted to sit back on the edge of the bed, one knee bent as he faced her.

“I can feel it. I feel… Empty.”

“You must know that I tried everything… But it was already gone,” he turned away, his back curved over as he silently grieved. Severus placed both feet on the floor, his hands gripping his thighs.

“I know my love, I know,” Hermione uttered, reaching her hand out, but finding only the sheet to grab ahold of. “It was a price I was willing to pay.”

“What?” he stood and kneeled on the bed, his brow knitted together once more. Severus’ long black waves dangled down before his eyes as he peered down at his wife.

“I was willing to sacrifice everything for you.”

At this, Severus bent over fully, his face buried in the oversized muggle shirt that hung from her body. He gripped her hips, mourning into her abdomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *moans* don't hate meeeeeeeee
> 
> I'm sorry! I honesty didn't set out for it to go this way. 
> 
> Keep reading. Be patient. 
> 
> XX,
> 
> Wren


	27. Twenty Seven

To their utter disappointment, Severus and Hermione took a portkey back to Hogwarts a few days later, empty-handed and nearly broken-hearted. As Hermione rolled her eyes, she began a hasty ascent up the path from the other portkey. In fact, she appeared to be stomping, from his point of view at the base of the hill. Back on the castle grounds, deep snow blanketed the ground. From afar, Hogwarts appeared to be a gingerbread castle coated in powdered sugar. Hermione marched up through the snow, a fresh layer falling from the sky in heavy wet pieces. Severus huffed, following a few paces behind his wife, frustrated.

“Can we discuss this as civilized adults?” he shouted up at her, the chilling winter wind biting at them. Hermione continued her quick pace, the only sound between them the heavy snow falling onto the ground. “Honestly, woman!”

“You want to discuss this!? I didn’t get the chance to discuss the marriage with you before you made the executive decision to rig the law in your favor! Getting me as your wife without asking my permission first and I didn’t get to talk it out. _So, no! No!_ I will not talk about this like a civilized adult! There’s nothing civilized about any of this!”

Hermione turned back around, gripping the trunk of a juniper tree, steadying herself. Despite being almost healed, she still found herself dizzy when she moved too quickly. Her head spun, trying to wrap around all that Severus had confessed. Her heart ached, thinking back to when she heard his confession a few short hours prior.

__________________________________________________________________________

As they were lying in bed together, Hermione recovering after the miscarriage, Severus turned to look at her. He ran his palm across her cheek, tucking his thumb just above her ear. Hermione bent her neck, pressing her face further into his touch.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he started, voice low and thick. Hermione opened her blissfully sleepy eyes, nodding. “The… The marriage. It wasn’t randomly selected as I had told you it was.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she shifted out from beneath Severus. “What do you mean?”

“I went to the ministry and altered your match to be mine… I… I promise it was all out of good intent. You see,” he started, but Hermione looked up at him with shock and disgust. She hurried out from the bed, backing away. “No, please. Just listen.”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, marching over to the wardrobe to pick up her wand from the top. Severus ducked as she held it out, pointing it at her small duffel to begin to pack everything in. The silence burned in his ears, Severus moving from the bed, pushing the sheer curtain out of his way.

He had been hoping to avoid all of this unnecessary pain, withholding the secret for as long as he could. However, after losing their child, Severus knew that it wouldn’t be fair to keep it from her any longer. If she pushed him away, left him, he would at least know that he was honest. Severus swallowed nervously, and proceeded.

“Hermione. You were the only one that I could be matched with. No one else could have done what you did.”

“ _Fucked you?_ Oh, I’m sure plenty could have, Severus. You just didn’t want them. But I know you didn’t really want me either,” she shot at him acidly, standing in front of the wardrobe to dress. She winced as she buttoned her pants, carefully pulling a sweater over her head.

“No. It was never about that. It was only about helping me.” He wound his face up in frustration, clenching his fists. That was not the way he had intended the sentence to come out. “That didn’t sound right… It was about finding an equal. Someone who was intelligent enough to help find a cure. It was never about sex, or any of the other law requirements.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’d like to go home.”

Severus contemplated this, sitting back on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Why did he tell her? If he had kept it a secret, he could have prevented all of this from happening. He scorned himself, knowing that it was the right thing to do, telling her. He watched her from his spot on the bed, Hermione closing her trunk and dragging fingers through her thick curls to pull it back into a tight bun. Her cheeks were wet from the tears she had shed, her eyes rimmed red and lips dry. In that moment, her eyes seemed to be brighter and more golden than he had ever seen them. Severus longed to take her in his arms, kiss her, and take all of the pain away.

_________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t wish to talk about it now, or ever. You will go with me to the ministry first thing tomorrow morning and we will get our marriage annulled.”

“Hermione,” he started, “Don’t do this.”

“No! You do not get to tell me what to do, Severus. You lost that right. I’m sorry, I know that you wanted this to work. But clearly, it hasn’t. Maybe you can find another woman who’s better suited.”

“You were the _only_ person that could be trusted. You were always the only one.”

“Bullshit. There were hundreds of others. You saw the opportunity after our failed night together, and knew that I couldn’t refuse. I’m too much of a rule-follower; too much of a goody two-shoes to say no to the law, and to you.” She turned back and marched through the ankle-deep snow, the castle now a few meters away. Suddenly, she halted and flipped back around. “I would have been alright with this agreement from the start if you had told me! For you to plan this marriage in order for me to be matched with you, that way I could help you and work on finding a cure. But you lied, Severus. _You lied._ That was one of my biggest rules from the start.”

“Hermione,” he started, reaching out a hand to graze her forearm. She slapped it away, biting her lip to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. “You have no idea the agony I suffered in this decision. You were the _only_ option.”

“I don’t doubt that it was difficult for you. You had to admit you were weak, Severus. How difficult!” she spat, her hand reaching to grip at her abdomen, a sob rippling through her.

“Yes. I am weak. I have been weak all of my life, and this is something I’ve come to terms with. You know, I didn’t have to tell you any of this. If I’d kept things the way they were, you would have never known.”

Hermione leaned her back against the stone entryway, head bouncing against the wall in anger. She pinched her face, her rosy cheeks and pale lips defined against the white of her face and the snow surrounding her.

“I wish you had told me from the start. Maybe then I wouldn’t have…”

“Wouldn’t have what?” Severus asked, stepping closer towards her. Hermione’s eyes fell to the ground at his feet, and then traveled up the length of his body to finally meet his dark eyes.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.”

A sob escaped her lips and she quickly pressed a palm over her open mouth. Hermione’s golden eyes were large and glassy, blinking as they darted about in disbelief. The dark-haired wizard exhaled, feeling snow beginning to collect on the top of his head and shoulders of his black wool coat.

Hermione peered up at him soberly, staring with an intensity he had never seen before. “What about me?” she questioned. “Did you ever even love me?”

His worn, lined face stood emotionless before her, his chest heaving with sharp, quick breaths. Severus was soaking, coated with snowflakes that clung to the surface of his raven-hair. As he let out a breaths, the air fogged at his lips. He wanted to take her in his arms, feel her small body against his, but she kept her distance, across the entryway from him.

“I’ve told you before,” he uttered.

“Yes. You’ve told me. But was it also a lie? I don’t know if everything about our relationship is fiction, Severus.”

“I’ve loved you for quite some time now… And you’ll just have to believe me on that.”


	28. Twenty Eight

Hermione emerged in the bedroom of the chambers she had shared with her husband, throwing her backpack angrily at the base of their ornate bed frame. The witch collapsed in front of the trunk, opening it to begin her unpacking. Severus entered a minute later, moving seamlessly across the cold bedroom floor to sit rigidly in the window seat. His wife paid him no mind, pouring her energy into sorting her clothes, putting the dirty ones in a separate pile from the clean. Hermione reached into her backpack, pulling out a discarded trash sack; she studied it, puzzled. Holding her hand up, she let the plastic unroll and a small item fell into her hand with an uncomfortable thud. The muggle pregnancy test rested in her palm, Hermione’s heart leaping. At first, she thought about marching into the living room, hurtling the painful reminder into the fire, but then, after her inner voice of reason spoke, chose to place it delicately in the trunk, beneath a pair of knickers.

The witch stifled a sob, biting her lip as she clutched her belly. _No. No._ She would not cry. Hermione reminded herself that she had been through far more difficult trials… But had she? What could compare to the pain she was enduring at that very moment? Losing a child, sacrificing it in order to save her husband. And now, did she even have a husband? Her thoughts wandered to the war, remembering the anguish she experienced at the hands of Voldemort and his army. Losing countless friends, including her first love, Ronald. The ripping, shredding pain she felt in her chest could not compare to that loss. It been excruciating, but at least it had not been at the hands of someone she loved.

Then, Hermione began to unpack once more, but instead of placing the things back into the trunk, she was removing them and shoving them into her hiking backpack. She furiously worked, packing as much as she could. A rustling behind her broke her concentration for a moment; she’d forgotten that Severus was in the room.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, hovering behind her. Hermione ignored him, standing now to zip up the backpack. She moved across the rug to open the wardrobe and pull out a few warmer items and two pairs of shoes. “ _Say something!_ ” he roared, slamming the wardrobe shut in front of her.

Hermione jumped, frozen before her husband who stood erect with his fists clenched at his sides. Still, she did not speak. Crookshanks had lazily entered the bedroom, first hopping onto the trunk, and then onto the bed to curl into a fluffy orange roll. He watched as his owner hovered uncomfortably in front of her husband, her eyes focused on nothing in particular, but were glazed over.

“Do you feel nothing at all?” Severus asked, his voice softer, but still jagged-edged.

Finally, she broke free of her prison of silence. “I’m going to Harry and Ginny’s.”

“You do realize that our marriage cannot be annulled?”

“If our marriage was built on false pretenses, how could it not be?” she replied nonchalantly, looking back at him over her shoulder as she entered the bathroom.

“It is in the contract.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, using her wand to enlarge her backpack into a rolling suitcase. This allowed her more space to pack her toiletries on top of her clothes and shoes as she knelt onto the floor. She made her way back into the bedroom, she saw Severus sitting on the trunk, hands on his knees with his fingers spread widely to grip the sides of his legs.

“That contract is null and void, Severus. If I can’t get the ministry to agree, then you will.”

“ _I will not!_ ” he shouted, standing once again. He stormed over to Hermione, her frizzy curls blowing back from her face with the gust of wind he brought behind him.

“Are you _really_ going to trap me in this marriage?” her voice raised, her arms crossing over her chest. “There’s nothing left for me here! You’ve already stolen my independence, what more could you want?”

“I saved you from a marriage that would have been torturous!” Severus cried, hands extended in front of him in anguish.

“Perhaps it would have been better for us both if I had married another! Nothing good has come from our marriage. I failed in helping you find a cure and our child is dead. But worst of all… Worst of all, Severus, is that in all of this lying and secrecy, you made me fall in love with you. _The least_ you could have done was to tell me from the start, so that I could have _protected myself!_ ” Hermione exclaimed, taking the suitcase in her grip and pulling it behind her. Crookshanks jumped off of the bed, following her as they descended down the stairs.

Severus chased after her, his heavy boots stomping down the stone staircase. He caught Hermione just above her elbow, turning her back to face him. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with fresh tears. “You act as if none of this has been difficult for me. Have you no idea the torture this has been? Sleepless nights, anxiety-ridden dreams... I have tried to avoid this suffering for as long as I could! _I wanted that child!_ More than I’ve wanted _anything_ , Hermione. Do you have no regard for my feelings?”

Shaking her head in disbelief, the witch broke free of Severus’ grasp, turning to make her way towards the fireplace. Crookshanks sat on the edge of the leather sofa, watching carefully. Hermione turned back to Severus, who was standing on the stairs, his hand firmly gripping the banister.

“Don’t follow me.” she uttered, picking up Crookshanks and tucking him under her arm. Hermione let out a heavy sigh as she picked up a handful of Floo powder from the jar upon the mantle. With her trunk and Crookshanks, the witch tossed the powder into the flames and watched them glow green as she stepped inward, shouting Harry and Ginny’s address.

In the split second between her shared chambers with Severus and the Potter’s humble home, Hermione silently hoped that her husband ignored her last words, and did follow her. In her mind, she saw him knocking on the front door, the way muggles do, and suddenly everything would be right. But then, Hermione realized that it was nothing more than a fantasy, and that her dreams of a new start would amount to nothing.

Upon her arrival at the Potter’s, the witch immediately dropped her cat and placed her trunk at her feet. Hermione stepped further into the small space, looking about for her friend. Ginevra Weasley rounded the corner, a growing James resting on her hip. She raced towards Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull the grieving witch into a hug.

“I was so worried about you! I can’t believe it got around so fast… I only told Harry, and then he must have let it slip… Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry. What’s happened? All I heard was that the Aurors met up with you and-- Wait. What’re you doing here?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Hermione sighed, moving over to sit on the worn maroon sofa. She then began to pour out every part of her, sparing no detail of the events after landing in Hong Kong, ending on her arrival at the Potter house.

As she finished, Hermione watched as Ginny sat with a slightly open mouth, James tugging on his mother’s shirt. “I had no idea… Oh no. It’s all my fault. I told Harry and he must have told another Auror. I never meant for this to happen!”

“No, no, no.” Hermione shushed Ginny, shaking her head. “It’s no one’s fault. Please don’t be upset, Gin. My miscarriage was likely to happen, no matter where I was, or what I was doing.”

“Are you… Are you alright, I mean, physically?”

“I should be alright… If you don’t mind, could I stay here for a bit? Just until I can find a place on my own. I can watch James for you and Harry, if you’d like.” Hermione replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of her kinky curls behind her ear. She looked down at the sweet, smiling baby before her and immediately questioned her offer to Ginny. The witch wondered whether she would be able to take care of him, and not be constantly reminded of the child she had lost.

“Of course you can stay with us! We’d love to have you,” The copper-haired witch exclaimed, bouncing James up on her thigh. “And would you really watch him? Wouldn’t you rather go about and find a position? Perhaps at the Ministry?”

“Not the Ministry. Honestly, Gin, the only place I wanted a job was at Hogwarts. I grew to love being in front of the students and seeing them learn. I’ll be looking for a job, but in the meantime, I can save you and Harry a bit of coin if I watch James.”

Ginny smiled brightly, and the sound of a screaming tea kettle interrupted their conversation. The witch quickly handed James to Hermione, and she took him with an awkward shuffling of hands.

“Do you want a cup!?” Ginny called from the kitchen, a few paces away. Hermione stood from her seat on the couch, gently swinging her hips with James resting on one. She hovered in front of the window, looking down at the brick street that was slowly being coated in a fresh layer of January snow.

“Yes, please!” Hermione replied, lifting James up further on her hip. Ginny arrived a moment later, handing over a steaming mug of tea. Hermione accepted it gratefully, taking a sip.

“Hermione,” Ginny started, putting her freckled arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you.”


	29. Twenty Nine

“Does this look alright? I want to look smart, but not old-fashioned,” Ginny entered Hermione’s bedroom, turning on the balls of her feet. She flaunted the blush-colored sweater, curving her neck to smirk and show off the jeweled collar of the white buttoned shirt beneath it. Hermione smiled at her, showing a hint of teeth beneath her curled lips. Ginny’s navy pencil skirt hugged her motherly curves, stopping below the knee to reveal a pair of navy Mary Jane-type heels.

“Very smart!” Hermione sat straight in the padded chair she was seated in, James sleeping her arms.

Ginny was set to start her new job as a Quidditch Correspondent for the Daily Prophet. After spending the last few years playing professional Quidditch, she and Harry had decided it was best to slow down to allow more time for James. It was the witch’s first day, and she hovered nervously in the guest bedroom, waiting for Hermione’s approval.

“You don’t think it’s too much, right?” Ginny’s face fell, pulling the bottom of the sweater out to examine a stray thread.

“Honest. You look great. Fun, but professional. A modern witch!”

Ginny hopped over and planted a kiss on Hermione’s cheek, and then one on the crown of James’ head. She said her goodbyes, a blur of pink flashing by the doorway. Hermione let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the chair as she heard the crack of Ginny disapparating.

It was a new year, now. It had been for a few weeks. Hermione had successfully made herself at home, the Potter’s sole guest bedroom devoted to a bed, a desk, and hundreds of books. The witch had decided to send for her remaining few items from Severus’ chambers, and they arrived on the first of January. Disappointment befell her, looking over the boxes to see no handwritten note, or even perhaps a surprise visit to accompany her belongings.

Oh, how she wished she had said things differently.

If she were in Severus’ position, with a fatal ultimatum set before her, Hermione knew what she would have done--Exactly as Severus had. If he were to let the Ministry’s law choose his bride for him, Severus would have very likely ended his life in misery. With the spark of romance between Severus and Hermione, it had given him the idea to alter the law in his favor. A double success; an intelligent match to aid him in hunting for a way to stop his death, and a partner in which there was romantic chemistry.

 

As she held onto James, asleep in her arms, Hermione looked up at the books covering the walls. Between caring for James during the day, the witch occupied her scarce free time with browsing the Daily Prophet for job openings and reading through the texts she knew by heart. The same words read over and over for the last two months which presented nothing new to her, even though she continued to scour them every day. In a way, Hermione was obsessed. She wouldn’t admit that to herself, but on the outside, Ginny and Harry could see it. If the witch wasn’t busy tending to James, or sharing a meal with the couple, she was tucked away in her bedroom, a pad of paper, quill and a book laid out in front of her. The cure to Nagini’s venom was a poison in her own life; it had ruined every bit of her.

By then, Hermione hoped that Severus had found it. She pictured the wizard standing in full health at the front of his classroom, weaving between rows of students to hit them behind the head with a notebook, or publicly scold them. This thought drew a thin smile to her face.

Hermione was brought back to reality when James stirred in her arms, letting out a cry. She stood at once, marching into the kitchen. With her wand, she withdrew a bottle of milk from the refrigerator and heated it up, it floating over to her as she sat on the couch with James. As the witch held the nipple up to his lips, the infant began to suck, and Hermione’s thoughts began to drift away once more.

_“The master of dark and light and the scholar who saved The One time and time again cannot exist without their half, but must destroy the serpent once and for all to endure time.”_

The witch had repeated the prophecy over and over in her head; she knew it possessed the answer within itself, but continued to fail in finding it. Hermione went over what she already knew: Severus was the master of dark and light, because he fought for both sides in the war. And Hermione, was the scholar. And yes, she had saved Harry time and time again.

But, their other half? Both of their halves were dead, Lily and Ron. Rolling her eyes at the thought that Severus was her other half, Hermione went back and carefully considered this once more. How would it be possible, that he was her half, when no part of their marriage had improved his health?

 

The witch groaned in frustration with herself, removing the nipple from James’ mouth and lifted him to rest on her shoulder as she patted his back. The windows to her left let out a groan with the mid-February wind sneaking in the cracks. Rain patterned gently against the glass, distorting the view of the street. A painful thought sparked further investigation in Hermione’s head. Their baby, now long gone, had been their half. One half of Hermione, one half of Severus. Perhaps the child had been the answer, delivered at the perfect time. Alas, it was too late. Even if it was the missing link, there was nothing to remedy the situation. Hermione had begun to fear that she may never be able to conceive again, her given biology a defect.

That afternoon, Ginny arrived home with a crack, dropping her cognac strapped messenger bag at her feet in the doorway. She entered the kitchen, conjuring a cup to pour steaming water from the kettle in. As she dropped the tea bag into the water, the witch entered the living room where Hermione was nestled in a pile of blankets on the couch.

“How was it?” she peered up at the red-headed witch, her frizzy mass of curls falling down into her face.

“It certainly wasn’t playing the bloody sport…” Ginny huffed, shaking her head and holding the cup up to her lips to blow over the steaming water. “And as soon as I got there, nearly everyone asked me about you and Severus.”

“What?” Hermione nearly choked on her own saliva, her hand flying up to the base of her neck. “Severus and I? What about us?”

“Rumors that you’ve separated. Rumors that-- _No_ \--Nevermind. It’s all rubbish, honestly.”

Hermione pulled the pilling orange knit blanket up over her belly to tuck it beneath her arms as she crossed them. Her face was flat, an emotionless facade. Inside, she was a blazing fire ready to explode. “Tell me.”

“They’re saying that the entire marriage was a… A sham. That you and Severus altered the law in your favor to prevent unfavorable matches for yourselves.” Ginny drew in a sharp breath and began to bite her cuticles, eyes avoiding Hermione’s.

“And?”

“And that--Oh Merlin, it’s horrible-- that you invented your pregnancy to avoid the Ministry’s repercussions.”

Hermione sat for a moment in silence, the corner of her cheek tucked between her teeth. Inside her chest, her heart felt as if it were going to break out of her chest, her pulse bounding all the way into her throat. Ginny’s words stung, the peroxide on a sore, uprooting feelings of betrayal she had hoped to bury deeper.

“You’re right, it is rubbish. How did you respond?”

Ginny’s vivid green eyes met Hermione’s and she pursed her lips together, holding back a laugh. “I told them to mind their own fucking business or I’d hex the lot of them.”

“On your first day?” Hermione exclaimed, her shoulders bobbing as laughter rippled through her.

“I’d get fired on my first day to protect your honor! I can’t even believe they’d have the audacity to say something to me! Your best friend, and the one that knows none of that’s true.”

“They all know it as well. I suspect Rita Skeeter was behind it, wasn’t she?”

Ginny rolled her eyes in response, letting out sharp sigh escape her lips. “She’s always in the middle of it. Don’t worry. I’ll remind her of her unregistered Animagus status and that should shut her up.”

“It worked wonders before,” the witch replied. “Please don’t worry, Gin. You and I both know the truth. Forget what they said.”

“There’s something else,” Ginny started. Hermione’s face fell, watching her friend clear her throat after taking a long sip of tea. “He left Hogwarts.”

It was as if she had been hit by a powerful spell in the chest, the breath drawn out of her.

“Where?”

“No one knows.”

“Is he… Is he okay?” Hermione questioned, her face growing red and the bridge of her nose burning with the oncoming tears.

“No one knows.”


	30. Thirty

“Someone has to know something!” Hermione roared, tossing the blanket from her lap, standing and throwing her hands in the air.

  
Ginny sighed, eyes glancing about nervously on the floor. Hermione began to pace about the living room, one hand on her hip, the other nervously intertwined in the frizzy curls at the base of her neck. As she bit her lip, she began to rattle through possible places that the wizard could be. Burrowing away in his chambers in Hogwarts, _no chance_. Spinners End, _not likely_. Perhaps he had escaped to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, the witch wondered. _Too easy_.

“They’re sure he’s left the castle?”

“I asked all that I could, but they were questioning me, actually. They thought I knew where he was because of my association with you,” Ginny replied, running her fingers over the side of the white porcelain mug. “What’re you going to do?”

“Go find him, and make sure he’s alright!” Hermione cried, her heart pounding against the wall of her chest. The room had been spinning for a few minutes, but the witch ignored that feeling as she flew into the bedroom to begin to change. After pulling on a fresh outfit, she sat on her bed to tie the white trainers on her feet. Hermione jumped up and began throwing her things into a small backpack just as Ginny emerged in the doorway.

“I don’t know if he wants to be found, Hermione.”

As the witch was pulling her toothbrush and toothpaste from a cup on the bathroom sink, she stopped at Ginny’s words. Turning on her heel, Hermione furrowed her brow in hurt, tilting her head slightly.

“But… It’s me. He’s got to let me in.”

“You know how he is… It’s Snape we’re talking about here--he’ll shut you out.”

“No! He won’t, because I am going to tell him that I only want to make sure he’s alright, and then I’ll leave. That’s all I really want. He and I both know that we can’t make our marriage work, but… But, I want him to be safe, and… I want him to die warm and happy, if I can help it. He won’t turn me away then.” Hermione replied firmly, pushing past the witch to round the corner into the spare bedroom. She shoved her toiletries into a zippered pocket at the front of her backpack, hurrying to the wardrobe to pull out a small stack of sweaters and trousers.

“I can’t bear to see you hurt again. It was hard enough the first time, Hermione. After losing Ron… What’s going to happen when he turns you away to protect himself? Then what?”

Hermione glared at her friend with disdain, clutching the pile of clothes at her chest. “Then what? Harry did the exact same thing that Severus is doing. Harry left and yet, we were with him. We were going to be with him until the very end… Even though he pushed us away, Ginny! I am not letting Severus do this alone.”

“I almost lost you once, after Ron… What if I lose you for good?” Ginny uttered softly, stepping forward into the room. She floated to the end of the bed, picking up the open backpack and held it out for Hermione. The witch carefully placed the stack of clothes in the bottom of the bag and immediately tossed her arms around Ginny.

“You won’t lose me, I promise. All I’m going to do is make sure that he’s comfortable.” Hermione whispered in her friend’s ear, squeezing her frame tightly before releasing her.

“Where are you going to start?”

“Hogwarts. At least I know he was there last,” Hermione replied, using her wand to gather the rest of her important things and putting them in her backpack. “Give James a kiss for me.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

The witch disapparated to the spot nearest the Hogwarts grounds, landing roughly in the soft, muddy ground. Hermione trekked up to the stone path, avoiding the ill-placed puddles. Around her, evening had begun to encroach upon the castle with its warm oranges and pinks painting the stone. The witch arrived at the entrance of the stone bridge with labored breaths, stopping to rest her hand on the column.

In the distance, a charcoal-colored cloud had begun to creep over the castle, a curtain of rain carried beneath it. Midway through her walk across the bridge, Hermione felt the familiar cool prickle of rain drops scatter over her shoulders and hair. Upon arrival in the courtyard beneath the astronomy tower, Hermione was fully drenched. Her sheer white button-down shirt clung to her skin, revealing a thin lace bralette. The faded denim jacket worn over top of it all weighed uncomfortably, drops of water falling from the end onto her black jeans. Even her trainers were absolutely saturated with the sudden spring rain. Hermione pushed through the doors to the astronomy tower and took off in a sprint.

Arriving in front of the gargoyle statue signifying the entrance to McGonagall’s office, Hermione raised her wand to dry herself quickly. The stone began to groan and spin, releasing a young girl with a tear-stained face.

“Ms. Grang--Mrs. Snape!” The student shouted with surprise, freezing to study the witch’s unkempt appearance.

“Excuse me,” Hermione uttered, pushing past the girl to climb up the stairs at an alarming speed.

With its high arched ceilings, cluttered bookshelves and collections of portraits, Hermione noticed that very little had been altered with the change of headmasters. A cool draft coasted through the room, sweeping over Hermione’s slightly damp hair and causing a chill to race down her spine. The witch stepped onto the landing, hurrying up and over the stone steps to the center of the room where Minerva McGonagall was perched at her desk.

“Where is he?” Hermione asked at once, nearly tripping over her own feet as she pushed into the headmistress’ space.

“He, I presume, is Severus?” The elder witch did not tilt her head, but instead glared at Hermione from behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.

“ _Where is he?_ ” Hermione pressed further, her hands palm-down on the edge of the ornately carved desk.

“I’ve no idea. He gave his notice a few weeks ago, packed up his things, and left.”

“Please… This is of the utmost importance! I need to find him before he dies,” Hermione cried, stepping away from the desk. Her hands went to her mass of thick, frizzy curls to bunch it into a ball at the back of her head.

“I truly do not know where he went.”

“You’ve done _nothing_ but protect him from the very start! Never once did you protect me, professor! You were his accomplice, and now look where it’s left us both,” Hermione spat, reaching back behind her to feel the cold column against her body.

“Oh dear,” the witch started, sighing heavily. “He avoided telling you the truth from the beginning, but I continued to urge him to be frank. I had hoped it was going to be discussed the day you received your formal marriage contract, but Severus wouldn’t budge.. He wouldn’t listen to a word I had to say to him.”

“There was not one ounce of honesty from either of you, so now is your chance. Tell me where he’s gone.” Hermione stated firmly.

“You’ve found a cure, haven’t you?” McGonagall questioned, removing her glasses with the smooth flick of her wrist. Her eyes were wide, the lines of age growing deeper across her face.

“No. It’s just that I can’t let him do this alone… Please, do you know anything?”

“I’m telling you the truth. Severus did not leave me, nor anyone, an idea of where he’d gone off to.” McGonagall raised a fist up to her mouth, biting her knuckles to fight back tears. “I hope you’re not too late.”

The ugly, stark-naked truth of Severus dying hovered before her. In shock, she stumbled backwards off the stone landing, and was caught by a plum-colored armchair. The witch began to murmur the prophecy to herself repeatedly. Her eyes darted about the room wildly, and she froze when they fell on a vivid painting hanging on the wall. Dumbledore’s wildly colorful and strong companion, was featured in bright oil paints.

 _Fawkes._ His tears--they were able to cure Harry’s bite from the basilisk’s fangs. What if she could track down a phoenix, and help bind it to Severus, so that it could be his companion. Perhaps then it could cure Nagini’s poison in his blood-- _but no!_

“I’m the other half! I’m the other half! I’m the answer! It’s me!” Hermione screamed, jumping up from the chair. The headmistress glared at the witch, perplexed. In a split second, Hermione raced out of the office, hurrying down the spiral staircase to exit onto the main level. As she ran through the castle, Hermione’s thoughts fell to the idea that her love may not be enough to save him.

The long corridor to Severus’ chambers was as black as night, with nothing to guide her way except the illuminated tip of her wand. Hermione stopped suddenly at the metal emblem sealed into the stone floor, her eyes darting up to whisper the password. The door swung open for her, the room greeting her with disappointing darkness.

She uttered a spell to light all of the candles in the room and let her eyes adjust in the growing light. Her arms hung down at her sides, her mouth hung open in disbelief. All of the furniture was covered with faded sheets, the bookshelves empty, and the door to his private study left open. Dust had begun to gather on all of the free surfaces, a grayish brown layer coating the mantle and stair banister. Ransacking through the empty rooms, the witch found nothing of use to her. Abandoned rolls of parchment, empty potion vials, useless books… None of it would give her Severus’ location.

Swallowing back her emotion, Hermione summoned up the courage to climb the stairs leading to her former bedroom. Her bare palm scraped along the stone wall to trace along the edge of the door frame. What once had been a simple bedroom had then become a bare space cluttered with the remains of a past life. The cathedral-like carvings of the bed were destroyed, holes blown throughout its structure. Hermione dragged her hand across its surface, her eyes prickling with tears. Her favorite part of his chambers now destroyed, damaged materials scattered throughout the room.

As she knelt down to rummage through the piles of splintered wood, Hermione extracted her black wig, tossing it across the room in anger. “Fuck!” She shouted, slamming her hand down beside her. In frustration, she climbed to her feet, storming to the open doors of the wardrobe. She began to rip through the drawers, tossing the empty wood across the room. As the witch slipped her hand inside the last drawer, she felt a cool, smooth paper brush against her fingers. Gripping the slick material, she lifted it out to examine it.

In her grip was a photograph containing a dark-haired, sullen woman, and a large-nosed man hovering behind her. They were shadowed by an older couple, the elder woman’s hand on the younger one’s shoulder. Hermione studied it further, moving to the candlelight glowing dimly next to the window seat. She turned the glossy sheet to get a better light, and stopped scanning the paper as her eyes fell to the pallid-faced woman. She was pregnant, a rounded belly disguised beneath a set of simple black robes. Instinctively, Hermione palmed her own abdomen, but let her hand slip back to dangle at her waist. Hermione flipped the photograph around and read the wobbly inscription. ‘ _Ramsey and Astrid Prince (left) with Tobias and Eileen (Prince) Snape (right) at the Crofthouse near Culduie. 1959.’_

Hermione grinned from ear to ear, pressing the photograph to her chest. The Snape’s photographed with Eileen’s parents in front of, what Hermione presumed, to be her childhood home. This concrete evidence caused her heart to soar, and she shouted: “I’ve got you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this helps you hate me a little less? I'm trying to redeem myself here... Of course, we haven't quite gotten to the resolution you are all hoping for. But, we are getting closer. Baby steps, people! Baby steps.


	31. Thirty One

Hermione was seated on the floor of the living room, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a map laid out on the dirty stone. She nibbled on a sandwich one of the house elves had brought for her, a quill and black ink positioned to the right of the map. Scattered light from the fire flickered over the paper, illuminating cities the witch had never heard of. As she drew a line along the route she was planning on taking, she let out a heavy sigh.

Hermione was going to have to fly on a broom, something she hadn’t done in years. Her stomach churned at the thought of soaring through the clouds, hoping and praying she made it to Severus in one piece. Flying, unlike other aspects of school, had not been her strong suit. Hermione shoved the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, brushing her hands together to remove the crumbs. She reached into her open backpack, removing a navy sweater, pulling it over the sheer button top she adorned. An additional layer had been found in Severus’ wardrobe, a gray fair-isle sweater with a heavy knit. Hermione made use of it, slipping it over her head to add a final layer of warmth for her journey. Her hair was plaited in one long braid down the middle of her back, a bright red stocking cap completing the haphazard look.

Climbing to her feet, the witch folded up the map and crammed it into the top of her backpack. She zipped it with a tug, slinging it over her shoulder as she extinguished the fire. Using the Lumos charm, Hermione exited the chambers, placing her palm gently against the wooden door longingly. She had no idea if she would ever return, a throng of memories thrust into her mind. Just months earlier, Hermione followed Severus to the dark abyss after their wedding ceremony. In the living room, they had encountered heated arguments, but in the bedroom… In the bedroom had been almost all passion. She stopped reminiscing and took off in a fast-paced walk to exit the castle.

Hermione rushed down the hill towards the Quidditch pitch, careful not to trip and roll as she gained momentum. The rain had finally let up, and a fine mist had taken its place. The moon was her only source of light as she approached the storage shed where the brooms were stored, locked away to prevent any rebellious student access. Hermione hovered in front of the door, tilting her head sideways to examine the lock above the wrought iron handle. She rolled her eyes and let out a small chortle. It would take nothing more than an advanced charm to open the shed, and she proved herself right a moment later.

With three swift movements, Hermione opened the door, raced into the space and selected a broom. Just as she was turning back, a glimmer caught her eye and persuaded her to stop. To her immediate left, Hermione realized she was looking at one of the newest Nimbus models. Her jaw dropped, and she made a split-second decision, dropping the worn broom to the floor.

She exited the shed, taking off in a sprint and jumping onto the broom. Her eyes were clenched shut, and she quickly realized that it wasn’t her best idea. Forcing them open, the witch scrunched her face against the fine mist that had begun to thicken into more concentrated rain drops. Beneath her, the mountains began to shrink, minuscule bumps appearing between the tufts of clouds Hermione traveled through. With the moon as her guide, she pressed on, heading south west towards Culduie. Approximately an hour later, she had begun to lose feeling in her fingers and toes, despite the additional layers she wore. Hermione changed her mindset to focus on what she would say to Severus when she arrived. A small moment of panic overtook her as she realized that had never been addressed; the entire time leading up to that moment had been spent figuring out where Severus was hiding, and how she would get to him. Not one part of her had been concerned with what she might say, and it was possibly the most important aspect of it all.

The moon had shifted behind her, casting her shadow onto the floor of clouds below her. Hermione lowered herself beneath them to study the geographical changes, comparing them to the map she had examined earlier. It was a close resemblance, the ridges on the map, and those just east of Culduie. She let the broom float downwards as she approached a wide expanse of land. In the distance, a bright white shimmering appeared. Hermione realized that was the ocean, and she was closer than she realized. Beneath her, at the edge of the water, sat a tiny white box, smoke travelling upwards to mix in with the air she was breathing. Finally, she had arrived!

Hermione shifted the broom nearly straight down towards the ground, gripping it with her hands and thighs as she rapidly approached. The cottage was still a small distance away, but the witch didn’t trust her landing skills enough to stop in enough time. Hermione nearly scraped the ground as she lowered the broom, tumbling off the broom and into the muddy field suddenly. As she stood, she stumbled forwards to gain momentum. The night was in full bloom, stars glittering in the sky and the moon showing its full reflection in the ocean behind the cottage. Silence covered the area except for the occasional bleating of sheep far off in the distance. The white bolt-hole stood against the backdrop of the Scottish islands, two peaks of the roof to accompany the sky blue front door. It was far more beautiful in person than in the picture; two trees had begun to tower in front of the house, tiny blooms decorating the ends of the branches. A simple barbed-wire fence surrounded the home, creating a barrier from the croft and swaying grass.

The witch, breathing heavy and holding the broom in her grip, stepped through the gate. It slammed behind her, reverberating against the wood paneling of the house. A high-pitched creaking sound drove Hermione’s chin upwards, and she froze. A man emerged on the stoop, a thick quilt wrapped around his shoulders. He remained in the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest, bare feet on the concrete. Thick raven-black hair fell over his shoulders in loose waves, a heavy beard covering the lower half of his pale face. A glimmer of moonlight caught his eyes, and Hermione gasped.

“Oh my God, Severus,” Hermione whispered, rushing forwards to collide with her husband. Her arms enveloped him, her head rubbing against his sternum lovingly. Her hands spread widely over his back, caressing the skin she had missed. His vertebrae jabbed into her palms, bumps beneath his skin painfully evident to her. “You’re skin and bones!” she cried, stepping back to study him further.

His face remained emotionless, eyes blank and sullen as he stared down at the witch. Hermione extended her arm to reach her hand towards his face, but he began to shrink in her vision. She realized that her body had been thrust backwards into the air. She was floating out in front of the house, a few feet above the ground. She attempted to withdraw her wand and break the spell, but her arms were invisibly bound.

“Stop!” she cried, watching the shimmering blue light surrounding her glimmer as Severus pointed his wand at her. What had happened to the Severus she had known? Where had he gone? The absence of her lover, her heart and soul, nearly broke her into a million pieces. “It’s me! It’s Hermione!”

Still, his focus did not waver, but instead grew stronger. Hermione’s body traveled up higher, now with her back arched painfully, her hair floating around her. A searing, white hot sensation had begun to radiate through her, burning from her fingertips and traveling throughout the rest of her body. Cries left her with the loudest volume she had ever emitted, a high-pitched shrieking. _My God,_ she thought. _He’s going to kill me... It’s Nagini’s venom. It’s poisoned every part of him-- he doesn’t even know what he’s doing!_

“Severus, don’t do this! Let me--Let me in!” she managed to utter as another shock of pain rolled through her. Flashbacks bombarded her, visions of lying on the floor of Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix Lestrange hovering over her.

At what point, she thought, would she give up? What if Severus was too far gone for her to help him?

  
“I came--I came back… So _come back to me… Come… Back..._ ” She whispered, her eyes forced to look upside-down at the gate in front of the cottage. Her body, drained of all energy, was ready to give up. It appeared to be a lost cause, fighting to find him, only to be pushed away. _Ginny had been right, she admitted. Severus didn’t want her, and he never had._ The poison coursing through his blood was allowing his truest thoughts and emotions to be acted upon.

The wind was knocked out of her as she crashed onto the ground, wheezing with ragged breaths. She clawed at the wet ground underneath her, gasping with her eyes clenched shut. With the absence of pain, Hermione was able to think clearly. She sat up slowly, her knees bent with her white trainers smashed into the mud.

Severus was kneeling before her, his eyes sparkling with recognition. He wiped the fallen strings of hair from her face, crawling closer. Tilting his head slightly, the wizard bent his brow in sorrow as he bit his bottom lip to hold back tears.

“You came back,” he whispered before grabbing both sides of her face and pulling her to him. He kissed her with a passionate strength Hermione had never felt before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you have tears in your eyes? Feeling all warm and mushy? 
> 
> Good.


	32. Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried too.

Severus shifted back from his wife, her face ghostly white and damp. She reeled backwards, shoving her hand roughly against his sternum to force him away. “Stay away!” the witch screamed with an exasperated voice, still trying to catch her breath.

“ _It’s me._ ” His hands stretched out for her once more, but she had dug the heels of her trainers into the soggy ground to propel herself backwards. Hermione’s lips had turned downward into a sneer of disgust, her lower teeth bared in an animalistic state.

“How can I trust you?” She interrogated. From her position on the grass, Hermione noticed how the moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of Severus’ cheek bones. It shadowed over the contrasting sunken skin, evidence of malnourishment painfully present. He paused, considering her question; Severus’ head was tilted slightly, his face turned downwards.

In response, he fell silent, moving away from her to push himself from the ground. Hermione watched as he shadowed her; fear struck her momentarily. She did not recognize the man standing in front of her, his eyes flashing with anger.

“You have come all this way for me, and now you’ve decided you don’t trust me?”

The witch shot up from the ground, storming towards Severus, her wand whipped out to jab under his chin. “I can’t trust the poison coursing through your veins.”

He stiffened, and beneath his beard Hermione could see his lips turn downwards into a scowl, his nostrils flaring. His hands were raised slowly in a sign of innocence on either side of his head.

“Trust that I don’t want it to. I need you,” he replied, eyes red-rimmed and shining in the moonlight. Hermione lowered her wand, swallowing heavily. Her breath shook through her, fogged air popping in short bursts in front of her mouth. “Come, let’s get out of this cold.”

Hermione followed with content, Severus turning on his bare feet to walk towards the front door. He wore a pair of black pants, stopping at the ankles. The paleness of his feet were caked with a thick layer of mud, half dried. In the bright white moon, Hermione could see through the flimsy white linen shirt, a painful sight to see; Severus’ ribs were exposed beneath the sheath of his skin. He was _dying_ , she realized.

Her husband picked up the blanket from the stoop, draping it over his naked forearm. As Severus entered into the front room, the door creaking open, Hermione stepped up behind him. The room was poorly lit, a few dimly glowing candles scattered about the room. Something, she thought, was missing. Then, with sober realization, Hermione discovered that the room was empty. No part of the cottage appeared to be a home for Severus. It was merely a place, a sort of dwelling, for him to come and die.

“I came… I came because I think I’ve figured it out.”

Severus’s eyes and mouth fell open, a single, thick black eyebrow raised high into his forehead. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, pulling her to him fiercely. She rubbed her cheek roughly against the wiry hair covering his exposed chest, taking in the scent she had so dearly missed over the last weeks separated from him.

“What is it?” he asked as she slipped away from him, her hand wound up through his heavy beard.

“Me,” Hermione replied, nodding quickly as a smile spread over her face. “I think it’s me.”

Furrowing his brow, Severus moved further into the room, stepping off the worn door mat, sinking into the sofa across from the simmering fireplace. Hermione sat into a damaged leather arm chair, crossing her legs beneath her.

“How?”

“The prophecy states that we can only defeat the serpent with our other half… So, I think it’s me.”

Severus swallowed heavily beneath his thick beard, tilting his head slightly as he considered Hermione’s words. He sighed, parting his lips to speak, but then closed his mouth in frustration. Shaking his head slightly, he glanced down at the floor, and then up to his wife. “What makes you so sure?”

“I just… I have a feeling!” Hermione replied, exasperated. “I know that I have no logical evidence, but there’s something about it that makes me believe it’s true.”

“There’s only one way to find out--if that is the truth,” Severus uttered, pushing himself from the sofa. As Hermione came to her feet from the chair, she watched as he plummeted to the ground, his body limp on top of the thin navy-blue rug.

Hermione raced to his side, taking his face in her hands to turn it up towards her. His eyes were closed, mouth open; his skin was ice cold against her warm palms. The witch felt beneath his jawline for a pulse, relief washing over her as she felt it throb weakly. Hermione jumped to her feet, using her wand to perform a levitation charm on Severus’ unconscious form. His body began to float, bobbing up and down slightly mid-air. Looking about the small structure, the witch climbed the narrow stairs in hopes of finding a bedroom. To the left of the landing was a moderately sized bedroom with white plank walls and a flimsy mattress with a rusted metal bed frame.

After settling him in beneath the covers, the witch set to work. Severus had set up a small potions work area at the opposite side of the stair landing. Hermione lit all of the candles in the room, letting her eyes adjust. In one corner was a waist-high wooden table covered in glass vials, a motley arrangement of ingredient jars, and a basic copper cauldron. Upon the opposite wall, a child-sized bed with a simple iron headboard sat covered in a faded patchwork quilt. A dusty wardrobe sat beneath the black iron-framed window, the white wax of a candle creating a hard puddle beneath its holder.

The walls in the room were a matching white plank, a sign of poverty and simplicity. Above the bed, pictures and posters were tacked in a dusty arrangement. Hermione turned on the fire below the cauldron and padded across the warm brown hardwood floor to inspect the art closer. A dated picture of the Hogwarts castle hung in the center, clippings from the Daily Prophet about Albus Dumbledore and various Potions Weekly articles were also nailed into the white paneling.

Hermione climbed onto the bed, kneeling as she placed a palm against the wall to tilt her head, squinting her eyes to study a photograph. Blowing air lightly, brown dust fluttered away from the silky surface, a young woman in the center. Her eyes glanced down over a stone railing, and then up towards the photographer. Bright, spring green eyes stared back at Hermione, the woman’s face spread with a wide smile. It was an intimate moment Hermione felt uncomfortable about stumbling upon. A white collar, black sweater, and red and yellow tie contrasted the woman’s bright orange hair. Then, she realized who the subject was: Lily Potter. But perhaps, she was Lily Evans at that time. Hermione believed her to be around 15 in the picture, her fiery hair dancing in the wind as the image cycled through.

Hermione was in Severus’ bedroom; a place he had stayed during summers with his family. She was kneeling on a bed a young boy had slept and even dreamt in. Stepping back onto the floor, Hermione crossed her arms as she looked back at the photograph of Lily once more.

A loud noise brought Hermione’s attention back to the current moment, and she hopped off the bed to race towards the cauldron. The remnants of the last potion brewed in the container were sizzling in the bottom. She used a scrubbing charm to clean the inside, and looked about for Severus’ special vials. It was going to be more work than she had planned to attempt to figure out how to recreate his potion, let alone incorporate herself into it. She let out a sigh, her lips vibrating with the exhale, and began to tie up her unruly mop of curls. Hurrying out of the room, the witch raced down the hall, stopping at Severus’ bedside.

“I’m going to fix you, I promise.” She whispered leaning over him to plant a firm kiss on his forehead. The witch straightened, observing Severus’ shallow breaths, his arms neatly folded at his sides. Guilt filled her as she noticed his vastly different appearance. This drove determination further into her, and she ran back to the bedroom at the opposite of the landing.

Hermione did not look up from the cauldron until the sun began to shine into the room. The pale blue light crept towards her bare feet, her body hunched over the table. She had managed to replicate Severus’ healing potion and was stirring it, watching it turn into a shimmering vibrant blue color. Picking up Severus’ knife, she held the short blade against her palm, closing her eyes to muster the courage to drag it across the skin. The burning sensation hurriedly transformed into a heavy heartbeat throbbing at the opened wound.

She leaned over the cauldron, her hand closed into a fist to squeeze the blood out into the potion. Hermione watched as the thick scarlet drops began to swirl in the blue, the color transforming into a deep plum. As she stirred, it began to let off steam, the witch leaning back out of caution. A familiar scent filled her nostrils: lavender, roasting coffee, and worn books. Gasping, Hermione discovered that it was her scent. Only Amortentia took on the scent of another witch or wizard; she had no idea what kind of powers the potion contained.

The witch siphoned it into a small cup, carefully walking across the landing to find Severus awake in the bed. He laid on his back, exhaustion evident in his facial expression. Hermione dropped to her knees at the side of the bed, cautiously holding the cup in front of his lips.

“Drink,” she ordered, helping him turn onto his side. The cup’s edge slipped between his chapped lips, and the rich purple liquid ran into his mouth. He swallowed it, smacking his lips after swallowing audibly.

Then, they waited. Severus rolled onto his back once more, closing his eyes. Hermione wondered what sign would be given that he was cured, watching her husband intensely. She hovered uncomfortably, hoping to see a change.

“I don’t understand!” She cried, slamming her hand on the floor after what seemed like hours. “ _It should work!_ ”

“Perhaps… It’s meant to be.” he replied hoarsely, his eyes opening to fall on her delicate features. She placed her elbows on the mattress beside him, her face close to his.

“No! It’s not! The potion should have cured you.”

“I’m tired now,” he whispered with ragged breaths. “I think it’s… _almost time_ …” Hermione leaned further onto the bed, her hand lovingly caressing Severus’ pale, clammy face.

“It can’t be! You were well just hours ago!” she argued, biting into her lower lip to stop from crying.

“I had just a small amount of strength left, and when I saw you, it came back to me.”

“Just because this potion didn’t work doesn’t mean that another won’t!” Hermione urged, standing quickly. A hand caught her wrist just as she turned to hurry and brew another. Turning back, she watched Severus shake his head weakly, his mouth hung open; his lips were a faded purple, crusted and dry. He was leaned onto his side, arm outstretched for hers.

“No more… Just stay with me… _Please._ ”

Hermione nodded, her faced pinched as she felt her breath catch in the beginning of a sob. She walked around the end of the bed to the opposite side, lifting the quilt and sheet to slip in behind him. The witch wrapped her arm around his thin waist, her forehead falling to rest against his bony spine. Quiet tears fell out of her, soaking her cheeks and his pillow. Her husband shifted his weight to lie on his back, his head rolling over for his eyes to meet hers. They glimmered, bloodshot and wet. His features that had once been so defined had withered away to almost nothing.

“I’m not ready for you to go. We-- _we didn’t have enough time._ ” Hermione’s voice broke.

“The time I spent with you… Was the best of my life,” he whispered, his eyes closing once again.

It seemed like days, the long expanse of his death stretched out before her like it was the end of time. Severus’ breaths had decreased, and he only drew in air one or two times a minute. Hermione had enveloped him in her embrace, her body wound tightly around his. The day had begun to end, the rich orange sun dipping below the horizon, spilling light over the pair intertwined in bed.

Hermione’s head was rested on Severus’ chest to feel the rise and fall with each breath. She lifted her chin, her eyes traveling over his nose and lips. Reaching her hand up, the witch traced her index finger over the prominent bridge of his nose, sliding down the hill towards his lips. The pad of her finger fell over his philtrum, pausing on the hairy skin to run two fingers over his lips. Leaning up further, she pressed her quivering lips against his, lingering for a moment. She laid back against his chest, closing her eyes to inhale his scent, hoping to keep it within her forever.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Darkness welcomed her when she awoke, her body sitting up with a sharp inhale. It took a brief moment for her to recognize her surroundings before she immediately looked down at her husband. The room was black, and she uttered a spell to light the candles.

As the orange glow flickered, she waited for his chest to rise. His eyes were shut peacefully and his white lips were parted. In disbelief, Hermione placed two fingers at his neck, feeling for a heartbeat. When the pulse never came, a hand flew to her mouth, shaking in shock.

“ _Oh, God! No! No!_ ” She screamed, letting out a guttural moan, pushing against the bed to rise to her knees. Hermione wailed, her hands gripping Severus’ shoulders to shake him. His limp body was heavy and ice cold, his head lolling from side to side as she attempted to rouse him. She collapsed against him, her body flat over his, arms wrapped around his neck.


	33. Thirty Three

With slow, deft movements, Hermione leaned over Severus’ body, smoothing the sticky hair from his face. She had pulled an arm chair from the corner, resting a small, chipped porcelain bowl on its seat. The witch pressed the sleeves of her husband’s white buttoned shirt up her arms, carefully leaning over his body. Her lavender colored underwear, the only clean pair left, were displayed beneath the worn fabric of his shirt. She nuzzled into the collar, closing her eyes to inhale the remnants of his scent.

After applying a generous layer of cream over his thick furry beard, the witch unfolded her husband’s straight razor and placed the sharp blade against his skin. Letting out a heavy exhale, she began to shave him. With every stroke, Hermione leaned over to the chair, rinsing the hair-covered razor in the water.

Hermione was so focused on the task at hand that when she stopped to look at the canvas, she didn’t recognize what was before her. Gasping, she covered her mouth. The sight of the corpse of her husband was nearly enough to make her empty her stomach. Tossing the straight razor across the room, Hermione knocked over the porcelain bowl and ran out of the room. She hurried down the stairs, out the back door, and broke through the white fence gate.

As she ran down the short hill to the beach, the witch tumbled into one of the dunes, her hands and knees creating friction with the sand. A chill stabbed through her body, clattering through her bones as the April wind was carried by the sea. Her outfit, Severus’ shirt and a simple pair of panties, was not sufficient for the weather. Again, Hermione stumbled and hit the ground, this time only rising to her knees.

“ _What do I do? Where do I go? Why did he have to leave me!?_ ” she screamed into the air, looking up towards the sky as if there was a voice to give her the answer for the question she asked. Her hands reached up to claw at her throat--it was as if she couldn’t breathe, an invisible force squeezing the oxygen from her. Hermione sobbed fiercely, throwing fists into the ground as she let out a guttural moan. “ _I would have given anything for him! I would have given my life for his!_ ”

Then slowly, she stood. She was right-- perhaps if she would give her own life, he would return. Hermione knew that if she were to sacrifice herself, it would bring him back. He had more to offer the world than she did... Any hope of a meaningful future was absent for Hermione. No part of her life was worth living any longer.

She began to walk into the water, the frigid sea lapping at her toes. It was painful, as if a million daggers were stabbing into her from every angle. Her teeth chattered, and part of her wanted to turn around to climb out of the water. Still, she continued towards her end.

 

As he opened his eyes, Severus could see only blackness surrounding him. He reached up to wipe the sleep from his eyes, blinking it away. It was as if he had awoken from a long nap, unaware of his whereabouts.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his deep voice echoing. “Hello?”

Despite the terrifying inability to see, the wizard began to walk carefully through the room, his arms outstretched in front of him. Severus had no idea where he was, but he was determined to find a way out.

The last thing he had remembered was lying in his bed at Culduie, sleeping beside his young wife. His last image of her was with her face turned up towards him, her hazel eyes glassy with tears. Severus closed his eyes in an attempt to hold onto the moment for just a little longer. As he opened his eyes once again, something flashed in front of him. A small golden glow began to float in front of him, a womanly figure drifting past. Severus squinted his eyes, studying it closer.

“ _Hermione?_ ” Severus shouted, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Patting himself down, he searched his pockets for his wand to use for a summoning spell. He glanced downwards, noticing that his pockets were empty, and his white bed shirt was opened to the end of his sternum. Severus threw his arms out towards his wife, but his reach was not nearly close enough. He growled, stepping forward. Hermione only continued to move further away from him.

“No!” he shouted, holding out his hands towards Hermione. She continued to take slow steps away from him. Severus attempted to race after her, but found that he was gaining no distance. “Hermione! _Look back at me.... Look back at me! I’m here!_ ”

Severus let out a loud shout as his wife had disappeared completely into the dark abyss, tossing his hands out from either side. A shimmering pale blue otter hopped out of his hand, onto the ground, bouncing up around the wizard. Severus watched as it began to run straight ahead, jumping to fly upwards.. Just as his eyes began to follow the animal, he felt himself begin to fade to nothing.

He gasped for air, his body shooting up from the bed. Severus threw the covers off of his body, jumping to his feet. “Hermione!” He shouted, hurriedly searching through the house. As he stopped in the kitchen, he looked out to see her footprints left behind in the sand.

“No!” he cried, breaking out of the door, racing through the gate and down towards the beach.

 

Hermione was up to her neck in the water, calm and quiet. The sea floor was slippery beneath her bare feet, small stones and shells beneath them. In front of her, the faded orange glow of the sun was beginning to creep over the island horizon. Taking one last look, Hermione pulled herself completely beneath the water. Her eyes burned as they opened in the salt water, looking around her. As time went on, her chest began to burn and she resisted the urge to come to the surface. She closed her eyes, letting herself begin to sink downwards; the current had carried her into a deeper area, her feet nowhere close to touching the sandy bottom.

As her chest felt tighter, her head pounding with the lack of oxygen, the witch began to feel sleepy. She knew that if she kept her eyes shut for just a moment longer, she would be able to be with Severus finally. Hermione’s heart was beating heavily in a slow throb at the base of her throat. Just as she was about to fall asleep, something brushed her leg and the witch opened her eyes.

A brilliant blue otter was staring at her, swishing its small tail around behind it. Swimming quickly towards Hermione, the animal rammed itself into her. It pushed up into her abdomen, propelling the witch upwards; Hermione broke through the surface, coughing and sputtering. Her eyes were on fire, and she wiped them quickly to look around for the sea creature. Suddenly, a strange feeling washed over her. As exhausted as she was, the witch began to swim back towards the shore with a feeling of urgency. Something was pulling her from the water, her body propelled to swim as fast as she could.

Just as she felt the bottom of the sea touch the balls of her feet, a figure crashed through the waving grass of the dune. Severus burst from the hills, sand flying behind him as he ran straight into the water. She gasped, her chest heaving with exhausted breaths as she pushed against the ground, driving forward through the crashing waves.

Severus reached her first, his strong arms wrapping around her frame, lifting her out of the water and to his body. She sobbed, weak against him. _Was this a dream?_ , she thought, feeling his lips kiss all over her face.

“What were you thinking? Never, _**never** _ do that!” he scolded, now cradling his wife through the dunes, up the narrow path to the house. As she shivered in his arms, Hermione could not draw her eyes away from him.

“Are you--are you _real?_ ” she questioned as they entered the front room, Severus lying her on the rug in front of the fire.

“Am I real? What on earth are you talking about, girl?” he stormed away from the witch, hurrying down the the cupboard beneath the stairs to remove a pile of quilts and blankets. Severus returned, kneeling down to be at level with his wife. “We need to get you out of these wet things,” he whispered to her, reaching at her chest to unbutton the shirt. Hermione slapped his hand away, shaking her head.

“What are you doing? Let me take these off.” Severus replied, his lip turned up in frustration.

“Just hours ago you were lying upstairs dead… And now, you’re here… I don’t understand. This--this can’t be.” Her blue lips quivered, her eyebrows turned downwards towards her golden orbs.

“ _Dead?_ It’s not possible. Yes, I was sick, but I’m alright now.”

“Alright!?” Hermione reeled, her mouth flying open in shock. “Look at yourself! Go! Look in the mirror, Severus!” she shouted at him.

Severus scoffed, pushing up on his knees from the floor, walking up to bathroom on the second floor of the cottage. Upon standing in front of the sink, a shock roared through him. She was right--he _had_ changed. His hair was as it had been years earlier, wavy, but short just before his shoulders. The hair on his face had disappeared, his pale skin soft and supple. Severus reached up to drag his fingers down his neck, inspecting himself. He lifted his sopping wet linen shirt over his head, his nostrils flaring. The muscles in his abdomen were rigid and hard beneath his flat palm.

As he came back down the stairs, Hermione sat before the fire, a quilt haphazardly pulled around her shoulders.

“Well, you were right… But I--I don’t understand how this happened? It’s as if Nagini’s venom was never even there.” Severus uttered.

“It worked. Somehow, the potion worked.” Hermione smiled weakly at her husband, her delicate, chilled hand finding his arched cheek, caressing it. Shivering, she pulled her hand away, reaching both of them towards the crackling fire.

“ _How?_ What did you do?” Severus questioned her, sliding the blanket off of her shoulders and continuing to unbutton her soaking shirt. As he pulled the wet fabric, it slipped down her freckled arms and exposed her nude, milky skin. Her bare breasts curved romantically upwards, her pale nipples erect with the glow of the fire dancing over them.

“I used my blood.”

“It was… It was you?”

“Yes. Staring me right in the face the entire time. I guess I was too foolish to believe that I was your other half. That… Well, that I was good enough to be the cure.”

Severus bit his lower lip, scooting over towards her naked form. He wrapped them both in a hoard of quilts, lying down on the floor with their bodies intertwined. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I’m not Lily. I wasn’t the one you always loved and cared for. I thought I was just an adequate replacement.” She stared at him, the tips of their noses inches away from each other.

“Is that why you went into the sea?”

“No… I went into the sea because you were gone, and I thought… I thought that if I could end my life, perhaps I could bring yours back.” Soberly, the words fell out of her mouth, the painful truth exposed. Severus’ face was bent with sorrow, his broad, strong hands smoothing the frizzy damp hair away from her face.

“Taking your own life would have done nothing good for anyone. All it would have done was broken many hearts.”

“I thought you were gone--I didn’t know what to do. You left me!” she cried, throwing her forehead down against the base of his throat, weeping with her entire body.

“I’ll never… _Never_ leave you again,” he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually harder to write than the death scene, you guys. God this chapter really challenged me--writing a reunion that was fragile and raw without being like a ridiculous soap opera or Jodi Picoult novel. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. I love you all!
> 
> P.S. Did you like my little reference to the Philosopher's Stone? ;)


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